


Hymns Of Angels Don't Sound Like This

by bodiesnotourown (Israfael), lybella



Series: Hymns Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, Harsh Language, M/M, Masturbation, Off-screen abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 64,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Israfael/pseuds/bodiesnotourown, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lybella/pseuds/lybella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a new student, Castiel Milton and family have a band. Castiel is in a relationship he hides from his family, but starts to fall for Dean when they meet at a concert. Angst ensues, interrupted by the antics of the Milton kids who can’t mind their own business and trouble that seeks to destroy what they have before it can get off the ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 Dean Cas Big Bang, this has been a lot of work and has taken forever, and in fact, may be the fic that never ends. We mainly want to thank kassiopeiar for being an amazing artist and putting up with the pickiest of requests and having patience with us. She made some truly awesome artwork for us. We also want to thank c00kie, who stepped in last minute to beta the beast. c00ks you are our hero. Also thanks to landahoymateys who alpha'd for us and cheerleaded these last few months. An extra special thank you as well to 9_of_clubs and dehavilland for being ridiculously supportive and being there (and listening to near constant whining). We heart you all very much.

 

The basement smelled vaguely of laundry soap and a lot like human sweat as Dean walked down the steps. It was finished, and larger than most houses that Dean Winchester had lived in throughout the seventeen years of his life. The walls were painted dark, but the low lighting made it hard to tell the true color. The room was so warm that Dean swore he could see heat waves rising off the crush of bodies milling around the small stage set up against the far wall. Taking in his surroundings he felt vindicated in not allowing his thirteen-year-old brother, Sam, to come with, despite his begging. A few students had cigarettes and joints while even more were carrying around bottles of beer.

Having only lived with their not-uncle Bobby for a little over a month, Dean didn’t really know anyone in Sioux Falls, but from what he had gathered from school chatter this was as good a place as any to get a handle on the social scene. The house belonged to the Milton’s, one of the wealthiest families in town. The school had been abuzz with talk of the Milton kids putting on a small concert to practice their “totally sick new tracks” (If his engineering partner Andy Gallagher was to be trusted.)

He had seen the infamous Miltons in the halls; he even had classes with a few of them and knew some of their names but had never spoken to any of them. Dean made his way over to the stage, snagging a beer as he passed a cooler; from there he was able to see the band as they set up. A lean girl dressed in a plain tank top and shorts, her brown hair pulled into a long braid, sat behind the drum kit making adjustments. Dean recognized her from his English class and knew she was one of the cousins, but couldn’t remember her name.

Another girl with flaming red hair crouched near the opposite edge of the stage, a violin tucked neatly under her chin. She plucked at strings, obviously doing some last minute tuning while chatting with a small group of girls. She must have been Anna, based on the hair alone. She was pretty cute, he mused to himself, taking a long draw from his beer. A short, amber haired guy was standing near her, strapping on a blue bass guitar. Gabriel, he remembered him from his Lit class, it was hard not too; he was chatty and snarky, always playing pranks and telling jokes. He was the oldest sibling from what Andy had babbled about in class that afternoon. A beat-up looking upright piano sat against the wall near the drum kit, lounging against it was a blond guy in a black V-neck. He laughed, chatting with the drummer who shot him a rueful grin. B-something...Dean mentally shrugged. The guy was in his Pop Culture class and he knew that he was the other cousin. That left only one other Milton.

Castiel.

Dean checked out the final band member as he pulled a guitar over his head and adjusted both microphone heights. Dean had thought it was a ridiculous name when Andy had told him, but it strangely fit the guy. He had an unruly mop of dark brown, maybe black hair and a slim figure. Dean’s eyes were drawn to the low slung, ripped jeans hanging off his hips. He licked his lips unconsciously.

Forcing himself to look elsewhere, he noticed that the boy was barefoot. He watched the youngest Milton converse with his family like a cat watching a bird. Castiel laughed briefly at something Gabriel said, a shy grin transforming his face. When he turned around and plugged his guitar into an amp, the buzz of electricity through it made the room quiet. Gabriel stepped up to his mic.

“Hey guys! Thanks for swinging by to hear the new shit. I can’t promise it’s not terrible,” There were a few chuckles through the gathered crowd and more than a few catcalls. “Alright, well let’s get this shindig started, shall we?” He snapped his fingers and Anna started playing quick, low notes on her violin shortly accompanied by the scruffy guy on the piano. Ignoring his guitar, Castiel stepped up to the mic and began to sing. The microphone cover obscured his mouth, but his voice was quite possibly the most delicious thing Dean had ever heard.

_I come over_   
_Quarter past two_   
_Love in my eyes_   
_Blinded by you_   
_Just to get a, taste of heaven_   
_I’m on my knees_

His voice was low, slightly rough, and it pulled at something low in Dean’s stomach. Gabriel began backing Castiel’s vocals, their voices echoing and blending together. At about half a minute in, when the drums and guitars kicked in, Dean could see why these kids were so popular. It wasn’t necessarily his kind of music, but there was something interesting about them.

_‘Cause I can’t keep sleeping in your bed_   
_If you keep messing with my head_   
_Before I slip under your sheets_   
_Can you give me something, please?_   
_I can’t keep touching you like this_   
_If it’s just temporary bliss_   
_Just temporary bliss._

Castiel’s eyes swept over the gathering of students, skimming past Dean before coming back to rest on him. Dean felt his stomach twist a little at the intense eyes that were staring him down. They kept each other’s gaze for a span of heartbeats that could have stretched out into hours, for all Dean knew, before Castiel released him and turned his head to smile at Anna who had slid up closer during the performance.

They played off of one another for a bit, Gabriel joining them to sing into one microphone, the piano player and drummer also providing back up when they could. Dean could see the beginnings of sweat forming on the singer’s forehead, dampening his hair as his fingers deftly manipulated the strings on his guitar. He tried to tear his eyes off of Castiel, but he could no more do that than he could breathe underwater. No one seemed to notice, wrapped up in the music as they were, but every few lines the singer’s eyes would meet his, send a jolt down to his spine, and then move off again.

Dean barely heard the music, getting lost in the primal heartbeat of the bass line and the contours of Castiel’s body as he swayed to it. His long fingers caressed the strings of the guitar and Dean could almost feel them on his skin.

He drew in a shaky breath.

He hadn’t felt such a surge of pure, animalistic want for another person since his last girlfriend, over two years ago. The song came to an end and they shifted into another, slower piece. Coming back to his senses, Dean realized he was being a giant creeper by standing there just staring at the singer and quickly slipped off to the edge of the room. He twisted the cap off of another beer he’d grabbed on his way past another cooler, the basement was strategically littered with them, and relished the slide of cool liquid down his throat in the overheated basement. He leaned his back against the wall and swallowed another sip. It wasn’t terrible, which was more than he was expecting from a basement jam session. One had to wonder where a bunch of teenagers had managed to get all this beer from...

He could still see the band playing from where he stood, but could easily hide his sudden stalker-like tendencies. He didn’t mean to stare, but he just had this urge to bury his hands in the thick, dark hair standing up all over the singer’s head. The light was too dark to tell the color of his eyes, but Dean was sure they were as perfect as the rest of him seemed to be.

The set ended after only four songs and as the band started to detach themselves from their instruments, other students soon surrounded them. He decided it was a good time to slip out. He had promised Bobby and Ellen he wouldn’t be out too late anyhow. He made his way to the stairs, sidestepping his American Literature classmate, Chuck was his name maybe, and a hopefully tipsy female companion trying to peel his shirt off.

He made it to the top of the stairs, slipped out the front door and stepped into the cool South Dakota night air. It smelled different from home. Kansas had a dry scent, filling him with memories of sitting out on the back porch of his home, eating a slice of apple pie his mom had made when he was little and later drinking beer and watching the stars fall with Sam shortly before their Dad had died.

Here in Sioux Falls, the air was wetter. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but one breath and he could smell that he was a hell of a lot further north than he used to be. He wasn’t looking forward to the mountains of snow he was sure were waiting for him come winter.

Dean shook himself out of his reverie and started to make his way over to his car, his beat-up old work boots crunching on the gravel drive. He found himself humming a few bars of one of the Milton’s songs, despite it not being his normal cup of tea, he had to admit the stuff was catchy. He made it to the car, but quickly realized that a few other latecomers had boxed it in. Great, he’d have to wait until the groupies made their way out before he could leave. Pulling out his cell phone he sent a short text to his brother.

Dean: Gonna be late. Jackasses blocked in Baby.  
Sammy: Haha sure. What’s her name?  
Dean: Funny. Just tell Bobby.  
Dean: Isn’t it past your bedtime anyways, shorty?  
Sammy: Jerk!  
Dean: Bitch.

Chuckling, he put his phone back into his pocket and leaned against his car to wait it out. He absently ran a hand over the pitch-black finish. God he loved this car. It was one of the few things Dean still had of Kansas and of his parents. His dad had worshipped at the altar of the ’67 Chevy Impala, and Dean was inclined to do the same. Sure it was louder than most, and huge compared to modern vehicles, but her insides were beautiful and when he sat behind the wheel he could remember what it was like to feel complete; before his family had crumbled apart.

He ran a hand through his light brown hair and longed for a cigarette, he’d given them up when Sam had begged him, he couldn’t refuse the kid anything. He sighed and pulled the collar of his flannel shirt up a little higher, the September air was colder than he was used to this time of year. Other kids were starting to wander out of the Milton’s home and towards their cars, maybe he wouldn’t be as late as he thought.

“Hello.”

Dean jumped, banging his elbow on the roof of the Impala. Rubbing it, he turned to stare at Castiel Milton, who had somehow managed to sneak up to within a few feet of his right side. The other boy had his head cocked slightly to the side and was looking at him as if he was some new life form.

“Shit!” Dean exclaimed, scowling at him. “Don’t sneak up on a guy like that!” Castiel smiled and held out his hand, making Dean lift an eyebrow at the formal-ness of the gesture.

“Castiel Milton. Though I am sure you know that already, being this is my house. I’ve seen you around school but I’ll admit, I am surprised to see you here.” The handshake was firm, but not too firm, and he could feel the calluses on Castiel’s fingers from playing guitar.

“Dean Winchester. Ah, yeah. My little brother and I just moved here, so I haven’t really had time to meet a lot of people. This seemed as good a place as any. You and your family were great.”

Castiel stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, tugging the waistband low enough that Dean could see a sliver of hip bones peeking out from between the pants and his faded tee. Dean told himself that he didn’t see them and wasn’t imagining digging his fingers into those same bones, pulling the boy closer to him and breathing in his scent. Nope, definitely not thinking that.

“Thank you. May I?” The dark-haired boy gestured towards the Impala where Dean leaned against it. After receiving a nod, he settled in next to him, close enough that a breath would have pressed their arms lightly together. Castiel didn’t seemed to notice and Dean sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything about it. They stood in comfortable silence watching the steady stream of kids maneuvering their vehicles out of the long driveway. Castiel moved suddenly and Dean watched him rustle around in his pockets until he produced a pack of cigarettes and flipped open the box.

“Would you like one?” He asked, offering the open end to Dean.

“God, yes.” Dean sighed, almost tasting the filter on his lips. Then Sam’s disapproving bitch face loomed up clear in his mind and made him wave away the temptation in Castiel’s hand. “But I can’t, I quit a few months ago.” He mentally cursed his worrywart of a little brother as he watched long, slender fingers flip the box closed and tuck it back into his pocket. He watched, fascinated that even the most mundane movements caused a spike of heat in the pit of his stomach. Then he realized that his companion hadn’t lit up either.

“You can smoke, man. I won’t hold it against you.” The corners of Castiel’s mouth turned up slightly and he managed to look slightly embarrassed.

“I don’t smoke. Most of my family does though, so I’ve learned to just keep a pack on me. You looked like my brother Gabriel does when he is dying for a cigarette.” Dean turned his head and studied the profile of the guy next to him. Castiel was staring up at the sky, the stars peeking through the cloud cover. He could feel the heat of Castiel’s body next to him and was surprised how at ease he felt lounging against his car with a complete stranger. He had spent the last two years making sure he kept his distance from everyone; focusing entirely on making sure he and Sam were okay. It was strange not having that task looming over him every second of the day. He rolled his shoulders, enjoying the new lightness of them.

Castiel turned his head and met Dean’s eyes as the bright streak of car headlights hit them. Blue, he could finally see that the color of his eyes was a deep, clear blue. He stared, feeling slightly like a creeper again, but Castiel was staring too so it couldn’t have been all the weird, right? He felt a warm puff of breath from Castiel as he exhaled and found himself moving fractionally closer to close the last few inches between them.

“’EY! CASSY!”

Dean jerked back, away from Castiel and his delicious looking lips, thankful for the dark so his chick- blush couldn’t be seen. Castiel seemed unphased, almost mechanically pulling back as well, turning to wave at his older brother who was calling him from the house.

“I should go help clean up. It was nice to meet you, Dean Winchester.” Castiel smiled again. The way he said his name struck a new cord of heat in Dean’s chest, but he ignored it and looked around the now deserted driveway.

“Yeah, uh, you too. Guess I’ll see you around school.” He smiled back and climbed into his car. As he pulled away he noticed Castiel standing in the yard watching his car leave, before he disappeared out of sight when Dean made a turn. He ran a hand through his hair again and breathed out heavily. What a strange night. He had just hoped to go hang out, and maybe meet some people so Aunt Ellen and Sam would get off his case. He hadn’t expected to end up almost kissing some guy he didn’t know. He glanced at the dashboard clock and cursed. It was late. Way later than he was supposed to be out.

Bobby was going to murder him.

 

  
  
Castiel watched Dean’s car disappear around the corner before heading back into the house, and the mess that awaited him, only to find Gabriel, Balthazar, Israfael,  
and  
Anna waiting at the front door. It wasn’t surprising that the “Unholy Trio” were snooping about but Anna usually had more class than that.

“So, Cassy, who was that?” Gabriel asked, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he turned away from closing the front door.

“Spying is a deplorable act.” Gabriel nudged him with his hip and laughed.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Israfael quipped, completely ignoring Castiel’s barb.

“No.” He rolled his eyes and ducked out from under Gabriel's arm, making for the basement stairs. The hyenas followed right along behind him, intent on hassling him.

“Were you going to kiss him?”

“It sure looked like it! They were scant millimeters apart from sucking face!”

“Should have gone for it, _Cas_ anova!”

“Do you even know him? Who was he?”

“I think I’ve seen him around school or something.”

“He was pretty cute.”

“How do you know he doesn’t have diseases , Cassy? You could have caught something from all that unprotected eye-sexing that was going on!”

“You saw that too?!”

“Ugh, yeah! How could you miss it?”

“Didn’t we teach you better than that? Always be prepared.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you scared off the fan girls with all those smoldering stares.”

“Nah, they eat that shit up!”

Castiel attempted to ignore their chattering with his own thoughts while breaking down equipment and wrapping up cables. Had he really almost kissed Dean? He wondered what it would have been like, kissing someone he had just met. A small thrill went through him at the thought...maybe he should have done it and leaned in that little extra bit.

The soft press of lips, hot breath, a sharp nip of teeth on his bottom lip. He could almost feel the brush of fingers dancing across his hips and along his spine. He closed his eyes briefly, giving in to the sensations. To be honest, it had been a while. Crowley had been unreliable as-of-late and nearly impossible to get a hold of.

He was suddenly aware that the room had grown completely silent and the insistent chatter of his family had died out. He looked up from his thoughts to find the others staring silently at one another. The looks on their faces spoke of dawning revelation. Volumes of information, Castiel would never really understand how, passed between them in a matter of seconds.

“What?” He asked cautiously. A look of pure glee spread across Israfael’s face.

“We have classes with him.” Cold dread doused the warm feelings he’d been harboring. They were like bloodhounds; once they got something in their heads there was no stopping them.

“What are you going to do?”

“Oh nothing big,” Gabe said, clapping Castiel on the back. “Just make sure he’s feeling welcome.

“See that he’s getting along well.” Balthazar added.

“Just don’t...be you. Please.”

Balthazar splayed his fingers across his chest in mock hurt. “Don’t be us? What’s not to love? We are all decent, caring, honest people.” Castiel gave him a yeah, right look. “Well maybe not entirely honest...”

Israfael fixed him with a smoldering stare and purred in flawless French, “ Dites-lui que tu bandes pour lui. ” [Tell him that you have a boner for him.]

Castiel threw up his hands with an exasperated sigh, abandoning the cable he had been winding up. “No. God, no. I’m done.” He grabbed his guitar off the stand. “You guys have fun cleaning up this mess.” He headed towards the stairs.

“Wait, Castiel!” Anna called, stopping him. “Have you heard anything from that producer?”

“No, not yet. I sent her our demo this week and she said it would be a few days before she got back to me.”

“Yes! Fame and fortune, here we come!” Gabe crowed, pumping his fist in the air.

“Maybe we should pick a few more songs to record then.” Anna grinned.

“Yeah.” Castiel agreed, “We can talk about which songs later, I’m going to bed.” He left the others, talking excitedly amongst themselves, and dragged himself up the stairs to the kitchen. God, he hoped they didn’t say too much to Dean. He found him intriguing, in some intangible way. He seemed like he could take some “good-natured ribbing” but sometimes his family didn’t know when to stop. He’d hate to be wrong and see Dean get...scared off. For lack of a better term.

As he mounted the stairs to the second floor, and his bedroom, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and thumbed down to Crowley’s number. His last three attempts to make plans had been met with silence, was it worth sending another text? He wasn’t hopeful of getting a response but typed out the message anyways. Tomorrow night? Was all it said, he sent it off to Crowley while shutting his door behind him. He was through with being angry that he was being ignored and was now just resigned to maybe getting an answer. He tried to not let it bother him too much.

Castiel sighed and dropped his phone on his nightstand and set his guitar in its stand against the wall before collapsing face-first onto his bed. Crowley. Everything had been so great for the first few months, now things were...weird. When they were face-to-face everything seemed okay, but whenever he tried to make plans there was always some excuse.

He snorted and rolled himself over, hanging his head over the edge of his bed so he could look out the big picture window and watch the stars. He wasn’t sure what had changed. When he’d tried to bring it up, see if it was something that he’d done, Crowley had told him not to be ridiculous and promptly, and thoroughly, distracted him. He felt his face flush at the memory and groaned, rubbing his hand over his eyes.

The few beers he’d had during the concert fizzed through his brain and warmed his blood. It had been a while and his thoughts were still riding high on the encounter with Dean and the memory of the last time he’d been with Crowley. The recollection of hands ghosted down his torso, conforming to his ribs and hips, combined with a brush of lips along his neck. He closed his eyes and let the sensations take over. Firm hips pressed against his and he slid his hand down his stomach to undo his jeans, his fingers slipping just underneath the waistband of his boxers. In his mind he pictured Crowley once again arched over him gripping his erection.  In response, he grabbed his own partially erect cock in his hand and stroked it slowly. He pushed his pants and boxers alike down his thighs.

He heard Crowley’s smooth, accented growl in his ear, “Yes, angel, that’s right.” as he rubbed himself, his hand giving a little twist at the end of each upward stroke. The sensations continued, lips trailing over his torso, fingers sliding over his thighs; their eyes met and he fell into a spring green gaze. He cupped himself with his free hand, imagining that it was someone else's hands on his body. Another growl and lips wrapped around his dick, his hand squeezed a little bit tighter, moved a little bit faster. His memory glowed around the edges, on the precipice of an orgasm.

He arched his back, lifting his hips up off the bed. Quickening breath, lips brushed against the shell of his ear, and a gruff voice drawled, “ Yeah, baby, do it... ” His muscles tightened and he felt the release flooding through him as he moaned quietly.

“Dean...” The name flowed past his lips before it even registered that he’d thought about it. As he lay there basking in the afterglow of the orgasm, breath and heartbeat gradually slowing down, his thoughts moved sluggishly. Crowley didn’t have green eyes...but Dean did, and that had definitely been a midwestern drawl he’d imagined at the end. He pointedly stopped that train of thought. With a sigh he sat up and slid off the bed, carefully holding his hand out, sticky with captured semen, till he made it to the bathroom.

He cleaned up and tossed his clothes into the laundry bin, moving back into his bedroom and climbing under the covers in nothing but his boxers. He checked his phone again. No answer. He set it back on his nightstand and burrowed deeper under the covers. Was he being too needy? All he wanted to do was talk to someone, but all the other Miltons hated Crowley with a passion that rivaled the fires of hell itself. And he didn’t have any other friends, really. What had he gotten himself into? And now he couldn’t get the thought of Dean’s green eyes out of his head. He just wanted to sleep forever, never have to deal with feelings or relationships or anything ever again.

After what seemed like hours of tossing, turning, and checking his cell phone he finally fell into a restless sleep. There was still no response.    



	2. Chapter 2

Bobby didn’t end up killing him, but Ellen looked as if she was strongly considering it when he slunk in over an hour after he had promised to be home. She was only soothed when he told her about his ‘friend-making’, though he left out the almost-sucking-face-with-a-strange-boy part.  
She muttered something about how if he was going to befriend a Milton kid, “at least it was that one.” He wondered how Ellen knew the Miltons, but figured it was safer not to ask at that moment.

Afterward, he climbed the stairs to his bedroom and once he had settled in he heard the door creaked open. Sam and Jo, Ellen’s ten-year-old monster of a daughter, snuck in pestering him for details about the party. He entertained his audience for a while before sending them back to their rooms and passing out. The weekend had passed uneventfully, most of it spent working on cars out in the garage with Bobby. Throughout all this his thoughts were peppered with images of dark hair, blue eyes, and hip bones peeking out of low-slung jeans. He couldn’t help it.

The thoughts carried over into school Monday morning. American Literature, his third class of the day was minutes away from beginning, and Dean found Gabriel “Hi, you’re from Kansas right?” and Israfael “Call me Iz” Milton perched on his desk like overly interested vultures. He had been in the school for about a month and although he had Pop Culture with the piano player, Balthazar, and this class with Gabriel and Iz, none of them had bothered to notice his existence, until today. First it was Balthazar (poor kid, what were his parents thinking with that name, really?) bugging him about where he was from, why did they move to Sioux Falls, what kind of music did he like, and are you sure your blood type is O negative? And now the eldest Milton and the drummer cousin were all over him.

“So, Dean-o, did you like the show?” Gabriel asked while at the same time Israfael chirped “Are you gay?”

Dean’s mouth dropped open for a second before he said a little too loudly “No, I am not!” Well. Not really.

Gabriel’s smirk widened and he leaned a little more into Dean’s personal space. “You seemed rather into staring at my little brother Friday night, Kansas.”

Dean pushed his chair back a few inches to escape them. “You’re in a band. Isn’t the audience supposed to stare at you?” He huffed.

Israfael laughed. “Yes, but you weren’t staring at any of us, especially not at Anna or me. I mean I know none of us are quite as pretty as Cassy but really, Winchester.” She winked at him and slid off of his desk to go sit at hers, and Gabriel blessedly followed suit as their teacher Mrs. Wilson breezed in.

Dean spent the rest of class listening to her discuss the life of Ernest Hemingway and watching the two Milton terrors pass notes to one another and then look at him and laugh. By the time he was able to escape class his mood was less than stellar. Shoving his books into his backpack, he pushed his way out of room and into the hallway. He turned to head towards the freshman wing to pick up Sam for lunch but was stopped when he slammed into another body.

“Hey! What the hell?!” He said, stumbling back a step. Wide, familiar blue eyes blinked at him. Shit.

Castiel blushed slightly and apologized, but Dean forgot what he was supposed to be upset about, mouth hanging open for the second time in under an hour. Damn family, always catching him off guard. He almost didn’t recognize the singer, though. It was…stylish, like the unrealistic kids in the shows that Sam and Jo always watched, the opposite spectrum from the loose-fitting jeans and beat up tee he had been wearing at the concert. There were too many layers involved; a black jacket, two layers of grey vests, and a button down shirt, with dark jeans that actually looked like they were made for him. His hair was perfectly styled and Dean’s fingers itched to mess it up. Castiel looked at him again from behind a pair of expensive rimless glasses.

“Sorry again, I was just coming to tell my brother about a new guitar piece I was thinking about and I, well, didn’t have my eyes open.”

Dean was at a loss, trying to get his brain to form words but it just wasn’t working. He coughed into his fist uncomfortably but managed to smile back. “Hey man, it’s fine. Just trying to escape Hemingway.” And your crazy family, he thought.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he remembered he had other things to do besides stare at musicians who walk through hallways with their eyes closed. He excused himself and waved goodbye, purposefully ignoring the knowing looks he was getting from Gabriel and Israfael as they came to stand next to Castiel. When he reached the parking lot, Sam was already leaning against the Impala.

“You are never on time.”

Ah, bitch-face #6.

“Yeah yeah, I got held up. Just get your ass in the car, bitch.”

After John died, Dean took it upon himself to create small traditions with Sam to stay bonded and make sure his little brother wasn’t lonely. Skipping school for the lunch period and going to get food or eat at a local park was one of them. Often times they found themselves back in the Impala, eating fast food like they used to when their Dad would drag them around working case after case.

Today it was a burger joint and the school parking lot with some Black Sabbath. They were almost always late to class afterwards but Sam was too smart for his own good anyways and Dean could normally charm someone for their notes. In between bites of their burgers Sam was rambling on about school. “There’s this really cute girl, Dean. Her name is Jessica and she’s blond and funny and smart and cool.” Sam blushed. “For a girl anyways.”

He scratched at the cast on his arm where Dean noticed a few classmates had signed it. What really stood out though was the doodle of Smurfette on the side.

“Have you suddenly decided that little blue girls are for you, Sammy?” He grinned at his brother’s blush.

“No! Jess drew it ‘cause she likes them, but now all the other kids keep calling me Smurf.” Sam tried awkwardly to cross his arms in annoyance. “It’s bullshit, Dean. Girls are stupid, why would she do that?”

Dean laughed. “Oh just wait,” he said, ruffling Sam’s already ridiculously long brown hair. “One day I’m sure your scrawny ass will tower over all of the petty townsfolk.” Sam huffed in response, shoving the last of his fries in his mouth. He started to itch at his arm under the cast again and Dean smacked his hand away. “Stop that. You’re going to make it all red and then you’ll be the short, blotchy, shrimp with a Smurf fetish.”

His brother glared at him. “You’re stupid.”

Dean ruffled his hair again in amusement. “Come on, we’re late again.”

 

 

 

“Kansas and Moose are entering the Batmobile, over.” Gabriel said from where he sat, ridiculously slouched, in the driver seat.

“Gabe, we’re in the same car.”

“Yeah, requesting radio silence.” The trio, Gabriel, Balthazar, and Israfael lapsed into silence as they watched their marks. Gabe had dragged them out to his car to do reconnaissance on “Kansas” a.k.a Dean Winchester. They had tried to convince Anna to come with but she adamantly declined on the grounds that “stalking is a creeper sport...but let me know if you find out anything.” So here they were, watching Dean.

“Batmobile?” Balthazar asked.

“Moose?” Israfael asked at the same time. “That kid barely reaches Kansas’ shoulder.”

“I bet he’s compensating for something with that giant car of his.”

“Ugh, fun suckers.” Gabriel muttered. “They’re leaving. We could follow them?”

“Dude, you’re car is just as noticeable as his. There’s no way he wouldn’t see us.” Israfael said, stopping Gabriel’s hand as he reached up to turn on the car.

“Don’t talk about Candy like that! Also, get out of my bubble.”

“Whatever. Camaro’s aren’t exactly known for their roomy interiors, you know.” Israfael snapped back, “I’m hungry and Kansas isn’t worth skipping lunch over.”

“Agreed.” Balthazar nodded, backing up his sister.

“Well I didn’t bring lunch and somebody has to stay and keep an eye out for when they come back.”

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Balthazar asked.

“It’s better than being in Trig and it’s for Cassy. You saw how they were making eyes at each other. In case something comes of it, it’s our familial duty to make sure Kansas isn’t a big creep.”

“Well, I’m getting lunch.” Israfael said, sliding out of the car.

“Oh! Pizza! Bring me pizza! And cake!”

“B, you want anything?”

“Sushi, please.”

“That cafeteria doesn’t have-”

“I know! A travesty! There’s just no culture here.” Israfael rolled her eyes and slammed the car door shut.

“I’ll bring you back some tacos.” She called over her shoulder. She could hear Balthazar launching into a rant about the lack of dietary staples in the school lunch menu; which for him included things like crepes, Belgian chocolate, and “fucking tea. Is tea too much to ask for?!”. She loved her brother, but sometimes he just didn’t know when to stop. She walked through the doors that lead to the hallway outside the cafeteria, leaving the duo behind. Balthazar would complain about having to breathe air if you gave him the chance. She made her way to the line of students, waiting like cattle to plod through the food line. She shifted her braid to hang behind her instead of over her shoulder as usual; dipping the end in pizza sauce on accident once was gross.

She felt a little ridiculous as she piled food onto the tray she carried. Two tacos for herself and three for Balthazar, as she had promised. With a gleeful chuckle she spread a thin line of sour cream on her brother’s, the look of utter disgust on his face was sure to be a thing of beauty. Gabriel’s requested pizza and cake followed the tacos, despite Israfael’s feeling that the combination, in the quantity that Gabriel consumed them in, was a digestive nightmare waiting to happen. To each his own.

She paused in front of the beverage coolers, indecision striking. She had a root beer for herself and a green tea for Balth but was momentarily at a loss when it came to picking something for Gabe. She almost texted him to ask but instead just grabbed the most sugar-laden sludge that she could find. Far be it for her to stop the idiot from rotting the teeth right out of his head.

She smiled at Millie, the lunch lady running the register today, as the woman slipped several chocolate chip cookies into the pile of food, free of charge. Israfael scanned her ID, charging the food to her student account before ditching the tray and carrying the food out to the lazy bums in the parking lot. Jesus, who knew tacos and pizza could weigh so much?

She stopped as a few students called out greetings to her in passing, wiggling her fingers in a small wave from under the food. After winking at her classmate, Becky, when she asked if she was bringing food to a mysterious boyfriend (as if she had time for the shit fest that was a relationship), she continued on, ducking and weaving through the crowds. As the doors came into view she hoped that it had not taken too long. Spying on Kansas and Little Kansas really was more fun than sitting in the cafeteria.

“Israfael, my dark-haired dove.” She cringed at the sound of the deep voice behind her.

Raphael. Ugh.

The dark-skinned boy had been hitting on her for months. Something about him gave her the heebie-jeebies.

“Buzz off, Raphael.” She shifted her armload of food and picked up the pace. The taller boy easily matched her stride.

“What’s the rush? I only wanted to say hello.”

“If you don’t start leaving me alone, I’ll tell my brother. You remember what happened last time.” Raphael frowned. Balthazar and Gabriel had put itching powder in his speedo and when he’d come after them for it Balthazar had laid him out flat.

“I don’t know why you have to be so difficult about this. I really can be quite charming.” She whirled on him, forcing him to skid to a stop just to keep from knocking her over.

“Listen carefully. No, never, not happening, nein, nada, nyet. Now I’m going to walk away and you had best not keep following me. Just leave. Me. Alone.” She turned and stomped off, not bothering to check if he followed. She’d deck him herself if she had to. Thank god when she walked out of the school he wasn’t there.

“What took you so long? I’m wasting away here!” Gabriel whined. Israfael scoffed and divided out the food once she was back in the car.

“If anything you’re getting soft around the middle.” Gabriel frowned and pulled up his shirt, exposing his pale belly. He poked at it questioningly when the unmistakable rumble of Dean’s Chevy pulled into the parking lot. His soft middle forgotten, Gabe’s eyed tracked the car.

“Burgers? Really? They skipped school for burgers?”

“Have you seen that boy eat? He treats his stomach like a dumpster.”

“He makes Gabe’s eating habits look civilized.”

“Hey!”

“He’s right, Gabe. You’re disgusting.”

“Just because you two don’t appreciate food properly! I can’t hear what they’re saying.” He changed the subject, quietly opening the driver-side door. “We have to get closer. Come on.”

Leaving their food, except Gabriel’s, in the car the trio sprinted from the car and ducked in between the cars in the next row up, crouched between a pickup truck and a rusty old hatchback. They stealth-walked down the row until there was nothing between them and their quarry but a beast of a sedan. Lucky for them the two boys had the windows down while they ate and they could hear every word. Too bad the conversation consisted of the younger boy, Sam’s, crush on a girl in his class and talk of his cast. Israfael elbowed Gabriel in the rubs when he began, loudly, chomping on his pizza. It wasn’t until the last minute bell that the boys made moves to end their lunch and headed back into the school.

Gabriel let out a sigh and leaned back against the car. “Well that was pointless. We didn’t learn anything.”

“Not entirely, he’s a good brother so he can’t be a total dick.” Israfael added, the boys nodded in agreement.

“So, how do you think Squirt broke his arm?” Gabriel asked.

“Abusive parents?”

“Nah, someone said their parents kicked it. That’s why they’re living with the Harvelle-Singers.” Balthazar added.

“Oh man. Poor bastards. Ellen is the scariest thing on earth.” Gabriel shuddered at the thought of The Roadhouse owner.

“Tripped over his own feet?”

“Don’t be an idiot, Balthazar.”

“Shut up, Iz. I don’t see you offering up any gossip.”

“Well. I was told that he got into a fight at their last school and that’s how they ended up where they are.’

“That kid? He couldn’t throw a punch if his life depended on it.”

“So you’d think but Castiel isn’t exactly muscle material but how many times has he landed you on your ass?”

“Whatever.” Gabriel grumbled. “Well, mission accomplished. Now, victory dessert!” He pulled his slightly squished plate of cake out from behind him and stared at it, eyes widening in glee.

“You better take that to-go or we’ll be late.”

 

 

 

Castiel slammed his locker shut after French class only to find Gabriel behind it, leaning on the next locker, munching on what appeared to once have been a piece of cake.

“Damn, Cassy. Having a bad day?” Castiel tried not to glower, but it was a failed attempt. “Got your girly bits all up in a bunch, eh?” He turned and started down the hall towards his school sanctuary, the music wing. Gabriel trailed along beside him. “I had a little chat with your new friend today.” When Castiel didn’t say anything about it he added, “I’m pretty sure he has the hots for you.”

Castiel shot him a look but continued to ignore his comments. Crowley was avoiding him and his possible interest in Dean was something that he didn’t want to deal with at the moment, not to mention have his family get involved in. It had been hard enough to focus on class work after running into Dean in the hallway.

“I would really rather not talk about it right now, Gabriel. Never speaking of it again would also be a good choice.”

Gabriel frowned, “Geez. Why so glum little plum? Did the parentals say something to you?”

“No, I haven’t spoken to them.”

“Ah, douchey boyfriend troubles then.” When Castiel opened his mouth to retort Gabriel cut him off. “I’m allowed to pass my judgment. If you’re in this kind of mood because of him then he must be a douche.”

“Look Gabriel, I appreciate the attempts to cheer me up, but I’ll deal with this myself. Now I really have to get to music.”

“Sure thing, little bro.” Gabriel said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and watching Castiel all but flee to the safety of his music studio. Once inside he heaved a sigh of relief, even more grateful than usual that he had a private studio. He dropped his bag to the floor, ignoring the sheet music, and drifted over to the piano. There was a half finished song that he’d been working on for a few weeks and usually he had no problem falling right back into the music. Today it eluded him. He couldn’t hear the music in his head and trying to force it would get him nowhere.

Long fingers slid along the keys and he played out a few measures of Jupiter by Holst. As the music flowed through his hands and out of the piano so did his frustration and stress. He switched to playing Moonlight Sonata while he let his mind wander. Things between him and Crowley had been changing and it was becoming blindingly apparent. Was it even worth it anymore? Crowley wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t see him, and, at this point, he wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to fix it. Perhaps he should just call it done and move on. That would be the simplest solution. Maybe then he could entertain thoughts of Dean without feeling terrible about it.

Finally he felt the click, like puzzle pieces fitting together or a circuit being closed, and he let his fingers go. They flew over the keys, picking out notes here and there. He started playing with one hand so that he could pull out a blank sheet of musical bars and a pencil.

 

 

 

After leaving Sam at the freshman wing, Dean strolled down the hallway toward his engineering class, passing the cafeteria during the last lunch period of the day. The clamour from the large, open room seemed louder than usual; the freshman must be rowdy today. He was late again, as was usual when having lunch with Sam, but he wasn’t too concerned about being tardy. Today was a lecture day; Mr. Devereaux would carry on and for the most part, bore Dean to death. Sometimes though, he would work himself into a fit and rant about the government putting wiretaps on his phones, the big-brother-run-utilitarian country they could be sure was coming in the near future, or how such-and-such is “just another capitalist ploy to take away the rest of our hard earned money!” Sometimes, if Dean was really lucky, someone would do something stupid and Devereaux would ridicule them for the rest of the day. That was always good for a laugh.

Despite what it seemed, Dean thoroughly enjoyed his class. Practical engineering came to him easily enough and oftentimes he found himself finished earlier than his classmates. Today he just had to turn in pages upon pages of equations and shit that he had for their latest projects and...he stopped mid-stride. He dug through his messenger bag slung from his shoulder and then smacked himself on the forehead. His notebook was still in the Impala, parked back at the other end of the school by the aquatic center (to reduce the risk of shitty, teenage drivers hitting his baby). Devereaux would be on him like a shark if he didn’t turn that in.

Groaning, he jogged back down the hall and past the cafeteria toward the pool, keeping an eye out for hall monitors that patrolled the school looking for students out of class. As he made his way past the auditorium, Victor Hendrickson, King of the Halls and the scourge of Dean Winchester’s school life turned the corner. Dean quickly dodged into the nearest hallway which led down to the music classrooms, narrowly avoiding Hendrickson’s notice. He thought there was an exterior door somewhere down here and if he could find that he could get to the Impala without having to deal with The Hall Monitor. Looking back just in time to see Victor’s shiny, black shoes as he walked past the corridor.

Dean stealthily moved to the nearest classroom, sidestepping into alcove outside the door. He heard footsteps echoing down the hall, coming closer. Shit. With a level of silence and skill usually reserved for kung-fu masters and ninjas he opened the classroom door and slipped inside. There was a faint click as the latch slid home but nothing more.

He held his breath, listening intently for the steps to pass by, and nearly jumped out of his skin when someone loudly banged on a piano behind him. He managed to choke down the yelp that had tried to escape and whipped around to find the source. He’d thought the classroom was empty, all the lights were off, but at the far end of the room was what appeared to be a small music studio. He didn’t know the song that was being pounded into existence but he could feel the agitation flowing through the notes. Before he actually registered what he was doing he sidled down the wall trying to get a better glimpse of the musician. The piano player faced away from the rest of the room, head bent over the keys.

As he approached the seam where glass-met-wall Dean ducked lower, hiding behind the low wall that made up the bottom portion of the window. He hazarded a glance in when he heard the rustle of paper being turned and, to be honest, wasn’t surprised to find Castiel playing the haunting tune. The music picked up with fervor and Castiel’s fingers flew over the keys, his back rigid with tension. He hadn’t appeared irritated when Dean had run into him earlier…Dean ducked back behind the wall and sat underneath the glass, leaning back to listen, his engineering notebook completely forgotten.

The music washed over him, he could feel the emotions behind it. Anger, frustration, sadness...he made a mental note to apologize for ramming into Castiel in the hallway, just in case some of this was directed at him. For now he avoided being noticed, already feeling stalkerish for listening to what was probably a private moment and to any outsider it would look like Dean was following Castiel around school. He might as well have a flashy neon sign blazing CREEPER above his head. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there listening as Castiel moved from one piece to another, the aggravation apparent in each song. He thought he recognized a few of them, but couldn’t be sure.

He rubbed his slightly sweaty palms on his thighs and tried not to think about slipping into the studio and easing all that tension out of Castiel’s shoulders with his hands...or carding fingers through thick, dark hair. Shit. He cursed under his breath; secretly sitting in a darkened classroom with a guy he’d known less than a day was not a good place to be aroused. Still trying valiantly to suppress stupid teenage hormones, Dean startled suddenly enough to crack the back of his head against the wall as his phone started blaring music from his pocket. Wincing in pain and slightly stunned, he scrambled to silence the tinny wails of New Moon Rising before it gave him away. Who the fuck calls in the middle of the day? Ash. Of course. He vowed to kill Ellen’s bartender at The Roadhouse and Dean’s illegal music hook-up.

He winced as the piano playing abruptly cut off and the bench scraped against the floor as Castiel stood. He scrambled to his feet and shot for the door, hoping he managed to slide into the corridor and out of sight before Castiel even saw him. He left the music hall as fast as he could, vanishing into the throng of students migrating between classes.


	3. Chapter 3

The idea of Castiel being as upset as his playing suggested stuck with Dean for the rest of the week. He didn’t think it was his fault, but he couldn’t help wondering if his actions, _all_ of his actions, may have had a hand in it. When he saw Castiel in the halls he smiled with his siblings, but it never quite reached his eyes. He was up to his elbows in the engine of a Kia in shop when it registered that _maybe_ he was being a total girl about this. It was stupid, but the idea of his potential friend feeling like crap irked him whether it had to do with him or not. He had noticed a tightening around the singer’s eyes and the way that his smile seemed too forced.  
  
 _Jesus!_ He thought to himself, _you don’t even know him_ that _well_! Maybe Dean spent too much time studying Castiel’s face.  
  
The most frustrating thing was that though Dean wanted to, he didn’t know how to help. He didn’t know enough about Castiel to know how to cheer him up. He sighed heavily as he tightened up a bolt. Sam had always been prone to “emo moments”, especially after Dad had died, so he’d made it his personal mission to cheer the kid up. When dad died, Dean started to leave notes and messages for Sam to find. Sometimes it was lyrics, something actually nice from time to time, but others were a simple, quickly scrawled “Smile bitch!” tossed in a backpack or shoved in a locker. It wasn’t a lot, but maybe he could do the same thing for Cas?  
  
The first note was simple. He wrote it on a blank piece of notebook paper, before school, in handwriting much too nice to be his regular handwriting. It was the script he used when trying to fill out medical papers without giving away how young he really was. Despite Sam’s bitching about being rushed out the door, the Winchester brothers found themselves at the school over half an hour earlier than usual.  
  
His heart was pounding when he left his brother in the freshman wing with some of his friends and headed towards Castiel’s blessedly abandoned locker. It was hard to keep from looking suspicious when he was trying to be unassuming but he half expected the Milton Trio to come bursting out of lockers screaming “ah ha!”  
  
He pulled the slightly crumpled note out of his pocket and, checking that no one was around, quickly slipped it through the thin slits in the top of the locker. Sucking in a breath of relief he tried to amble away nonchalantly. Whether he succeeded or not was another story.  
  


  
  
“Are you kidding me? Haggar is so much better than Roth!” Gabriel said, loud enough to be heard over the din of students in the hallway before school.  
  
Castiel ignored the argument that had been progressing between Gabriel and Israfael since they had left the house and opened his locker to switch out his books. A piece of paper fluttered down to the floor from the top shelf and he stooped to pick it up, shoving his books into the bottom of his locker. He glanced behind him, glad to find the two so wrapped up in their debate that they weren’t paying any attention to him. Maybe it was a note from Crowley? Though that seemed unlikely and highly out of character. He unfolded the note quickly, his lips moving silently as he read the careful script.  
  
 _We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful of what we pretend to be._  
  
Castiel’s brows knit in confusion. He couldn’t place the quote but it struck a chord in him when he read it again. His blue eyes scanned the faces in the hallway; looking for anyone paying attention that could have left him a note. Though the hallway was full they were all strangers to Castiel. He looked back down at the note. The handwriting wasn’t recognizable and there were no other clues to be found on the page.  
  
“Hey, what have you got there?” Gabriel asked, making a grab for the note. Castiel stood up quickly, deftly moving the note away from his grabby hands, and stuffed it into his bag.  
  
“Just some notes from class yesterday. I forgot them here last night.” Neither sibling nor cousin looked like they believed him, “I have to go to class. I have several questions for Mr. Reznick about the Latin homework.” Before either of them could question him, he slammed his locker shut and all but ran down the hall. Once he was safely in his mostly empty Latin classroom he pulled the note out again. Under the cover of his desktop he searched the quote on his phone. Who would give him something like this? _We are what we pretend to be..._  
  
Was it about Crowley? Was it _from_ Crowley? Was it his idea of some kind of joke? No, this wasn't his style. But who else would know? Outside of his family he didn't really talk to anyone, not about this, and he especially never brought this up to his family. Besides if any of them found out he could expect a confrontation, not mysterious notes in his locker. Maybe it was about Dean...had someone seen them at the party? But again, who would actually care? It was not like anything had happened they had just talked.  
  
He looked back at the note, _we must be careful who we pretend to be_. Was he pretending to be someone? His mind circled back to Dean, maybe it was from him...but why would he leave notes in his locker? They'd only talked a few times, there was no way that he knew, well, anything about Castiel beyond the surface that everyone else was given.  
  
What if it was from Dean? What was he implying, then? The bell rang, signaling the beginning of class and Castiel tucked his phone and note away, a puzzle to be solved later. But the note wouldn't leave his thoughts and he found himself thinking about it instead of conjugating verbs like he was supposed to be. Dean...a small uncontrollable thrill ran through him at the prospect that the new boy could be leaving him notes. This could also cause problems; if Crowley were to find out...it was best not to go there.  
  
“Castiel?” Mr. Reznick’s voice dragged him out of his thoughts.  
  
“Yes?” He straightened in his chair.  
  
“Could you please conjugate the verb ‘to be’?”  
  
 _“Sum, es, est, sumus, estis, sunt.”_ He rattled the Latin out easily before his thoughts rushed back in, drowning out the voices of other students. Class time went by in a blur and when the bell rang he couldn’t remember anything Mr. Reznick had said.  
  


  
Dean waited out by the Impala after school for Sam. He threw his bag into the trunk and leaned back against the driver’s side door, watching the entrance for his brother’s shaggy head. A flicker of bright red caught his eye from the side of the parking lot; Anna was laughing with Gabriel as they walked across the lot. Castiel was trailing behind them, focused on something off in the distance. Dean could see him moving his fingers of one hand like he was playing guitar. Dean grinned to himself, must be music on his brain again.  
  
He watched the trio, specifically Castiel, climb into a blue 68’ Camaro. Just before sliding into the back seat of the car the dark haired boy looked up from his thoughts and met Dean’s eyes. They both stared for a moment before Dean nodded his head and quickly looked away, scanning the parking lot for Sam. He rubbed clammy hands on his jeans, nerves suddenly kicking in. Cas has looked _right at him_.  
  
 _He knows...he has to know..._  
  
Shit, what if he did know that it was Dean that had left the note? He shook his head, trying to clear the panic that gripped him. That was stupid. There was no way that note could be traced back to him. He was overreacting, that was all. But still...anyone else would have had that “being watched” feeling and looked around the parking lot. Cas had honed right in on Dean; it was like he had known.  
  
A car door slamming pulled him out of his thoughts and dumped him, unceremoniously, back into the real world where Sammy was saying something. He might as well have been speaking Greek from all Dean could understand.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I asked if you had thought anymore about teaching me how to drive?” Sam said again with an added exasperated sigh. Dean blinked at him for a few beats.  
  
“Uhhh, oh, wait. Aren’t you a little young to be learning how to drive?” Sam rolled his eyes at his older brother’s ignorance and lack of ability to plan ahead as he slid into the passenger seat.  
  
“It won’t be long before I have to sign up for driver’s training, Dean.”  
  
“I think they have some kind of rule about having to be able to see over the steering wheel- ow!” Sam shut him up with a punch to the arm as he climbed into the car. For a one armed gimp the kid was still surprisingly strong and Dean had to bite back a wince. He did however laugh at the epic bitch face that Sam was pulling and started the car. “All right, all right. Maybe I’ll take you out this weekend.” Sam all but bounced in his seat as they pulled out of the parking lot.  
  
“Really? Awesome!” They sat quietly for a minute, Sam full of giddy anticipation and Dean sang along with the Metallica playing through the car. “Dean?”  
  
“Yeah, Sammy?”  
  
“Would you let me drive the Impala?” Dean snorted.  
  
“Hell no, shrimp. The only person that handles Baby is me and that’s it. I’ll teach you with one of the junkers. That way if you hit something it’s not such a big deal.” Sam slouched back in his seat, spirits dampened by the dismissal but it wasn’t long before they built back up and he was bouncing again.  
  


  
By the end of the day Castiel was thoroughly and completely irritated, even music theory hadn’t managed to lighten the metaphorical black cloud that boiled around him. He’d spent the better part of the day thinking about or looking at the note trying to deduce who could have left it for him. He hated puzzles. He had even started to think that maybe it wasn’t even for him, that someone had just made a mistake and slipped it into the wrong locker. He’d had the same locker for that past two years, though; everyone did, so he found that a little hard to believe. It was too close to the truth for him to dismiss as an accident...  
  
After deliberating about it all day, Crowley was his number one choice. Though the note was not part of his usual tactics, perhaps it was a new game that he was playing. He’d been trying to find the boy in question for most of the day to no avail. Anytime that he caught sight of him, Crowley managed to disappear before Castiel could shake whichever of his family members were hanging around. He was growing increasingly tired of this game of hide and seek and just wanted to confront Crowley.  
  
“Hey, Cassy! How was school?” Gabriel asked in his annoying approximation of an older brother’s duties. This was common occurrence that Castiel had hoped to avoid; he should have known that burying his nose in Faust would not stop it.  
  
“Fine.” He turned a page, eyes darting over the print but not really reading any part of it.  
  
“Anything interesting happen?”  
  
“No more than usual.”  
  
“Ah, run into anyone fun?” He glanced up and studied Gabriel’s face in the rear-view mirror. Jovial, smarmy, and as unreadable as ever. What was he getting at?  
  
“No?” Castiel answered slowly, drawing out the ‘o’.  
  
“Are you sure?” Gabriel asked again, shooting a crooked grin and a look that Castiel couldn’t read at Anna as she slid into the passenger seat. He sighed and closed his book, marking his page with a finger and setting it in his lap.  
  
“Apparently this is one of those times where you find something terribly interesting that any normal person would find mundane and trivial in comparison. So, please, enlighten me.”  
  
“Dean-o!” Gabriel crowed. “Saw you two have a little run in with each other the other day. Just wanted to know if that was going to become a regular thing?” He continued, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Castiel’s mind flashed to the literal run-in with Dean that had occurred a few days prior. That had been mildly embarrassing since as soon as the boy had opened his mouth Castiel remembered his private fantasy. As he was again now. He shifted in his seat, staring down at the cover of his book. Well this was awkward...  
  
Fielding Castiel’s discomfort, Anna attempted to change the subject. “Any luck getting ahold of that producer?”  
  
“Oh, no. Nothing yet. I’m still working on it.” Castiel replied, mentally sighing with relief. He didn’t understand this sudden infatuation that his family seemed to have with Dean Winchester and he really didn’t want to talk about it.  
  
“Could you imagine if we got a record deal? Booze, girls, and music! That’s the life!” Gabriel continued to ramble on about the life of a rock star. Castiel felt his phone buzz in his pocket, a text message. The screen blipped to life at the push of a button and he saw it was from Crowley.  
  
 _Dregs 8pm_  
  
He frowned, dismissal all day and now this? He viewed himself as a pretty tolerant person but everyone had to draw the line somewhere...  
  
 _Why have you been avoiding me?_

He quickly typed back, fingers tapping out a rhythm on the touch screen. A minute later the phone vibrated again.  
  
 _Don’t get your knickers in a twist. We’ll talk about it tonight_.

Castiel huffed out a breath, no use arguing about it now. He would just have to bring that, and the note, up tonight.  
  


  
That evening, Castiel pulled into a parking spot outside the back door of Dregs, one of the local coffee shops, and turned off the car. The setting sun stained the darkening sky with oranges and pinks that faded into the dark blue of a bruise. He pulled out his cell phone to check the message again. _Dregs 8pm_ was all it said. He’d sent three messages back but received no responses after the first, rather typical for Crowley and extremely frustrating for Castiel. He’d been trying to talk to Crowley all day at school. Unfortunately, they didn’t have any classes together and the times that he wasn’t surrounded by his family were few and far between. Anna had agreed to let him borrow her car without too many questions.  
  
He climbed out of the SUV and tucked his phone away, locking the doors before heading inside. A quick survey of the cafe told him that Crowley wasn’t there yet and only a few tables sported patrons. He staked his claim on a secluded corner booth, laying his jacket across one of the benches.  
  
“Hey, Castiel.” Pamela Barnes, owner of Dregs, greeted him as he approached the counter. She was a pleasant faced young woman with dark hair and a knack for reading people.  
  
“Hi, Pam.” Sometimes, when it was too distracting or loud at home, he would come here to study. On slow evenings Pamela would come out from behind the counter and help him with homework, chat, or even play sounding board to some of his songs. They had become friends, of sorts.  
  
“Got a new one for you to try tonight.” She grinned, pulling a sealed tin out from behind the counter. Pamela knew how much he liked tea and she enjoyed ordering obscure blends for him to taste test for her. “Peach Tranquility Herbal Tea. It has peach, pineapple, chamomile, lemon and it _smells_ delicious.” She filled a mug with hot water and dropped the steeping cup into it. He could smell the fruity aroma on the steam rising from the surface. “On your own tonight?”  
  
He took a deep breath of the steam, a small smile quirking his lips, and shook his head. “Meeting someone.”  
  
“Ah.” She tapped the side of her nose and winked at him, “Your secret is safe with me. Just tell me what you think of the tea.”  
  
“Thank you.” She smiled at him before he walked back to the table and settled in to wait for the tea to cool, and for Crowley. A few minutes later, after several sips of tea, Crowley pushed open the front door and strode in. A smug smile spread across his face as he approached the table and Castiel’s heart jumped in a frustrating little flutter.  
  
 _You’re supposed to be mad at him_. He reminded himself resolutely but his hormones didn’t seem to care one bit. His eyes followed the subtle sway of Crowley’s hips as he practically sauntered towards him, cutting a sharp figure in his tailored suit.  
  
“Hello, love.” He slid gracefully into the booth, settling himself comfortably onto the bench. Castiel stirred his tea, going for idle disregard and ignoring the greeting. “Ah, the silent treatment now, is it?”  
  
He took a slow sip from his tea, “You’ve been avoiding me. It’s the least I could do.”  
  
“What can I say? I’ve been busy.” Pamela dropped a mug of coffee off at the table in front of Crowley, shooting him a disgruntled look before glancing at Castiel. He shook his head subtly and she wandered off to clear dishes.  
  
Castiel’s cup hit the table with a loud thump as he leaned forward. “Busy? Busy with what? I haven’t seen you in three weeks!”  
  
Crowley’s eyes widened over the rim of his mug at Castiel’s outburst. “Well, aren’t we being dramatic.”  
  
“You haven’t responded to any of my texts, you dodge me at school-”  
  
Crowley cut him off, face a distorted mask of frustration, “I told you, I’ve been busy. My life doesn’t revolve around you.” Castiel jerked back like he’d been slapped. Angry thoughts seethed through his brain; he’d never demanded anything like that. He never pushed or prodded they had separate lives. He hadn’t been demanding of Crowley’s time. His jaw clenched and he stared down into his mug. All he wanted was a little affection every now-and-then, but three weeks of nothing was a little much, even for him. The long silence continued to spread between them.  
  
“Darling, I didn’t mean it like that...” Crowley murmured, finally breaking the tension. He reached across the table to place his hand over Castiel’s where it sat next to hit mug.  
  
“Don’t.” Castiel pulled his hand back, glaring up at Crowley.  
  
“Cassy-”  
  
“I said don’t.” Castiel’s voice whipped out, making himself cringe internally at the harshness of it. Crowley blinked at him, his face blank. “I think we need a break.”  
  
“No.” Crowley said flatly.  
  
“I’m not asking you for permission. I’m telling you-”  
  
“And I’m telling you, no.”  
  
“This is not a debate.” Castiel said, “You obviously do not want to see me so I fail to see what the problem is. What do you even get out of this?” Crowley carefully set his mug down on the table and steepled his fingers together.  
  
“It’s not that I don’t want to see you, I’ve just been busy, but this is not what you want to do.”  
  
“I am not dumping you. I am just asking for some time to reevaluate the feelings I have invested in this relationship.”  
  
Crowley was quiet for a while, staring at Castiel with intense scrutiny. “Meg liked your single.” He continued before Castiel could interrupt him, “If you do this, if we break up, I’ll tell her to drop it.”  
  
“You wouldn’t...”  
  
“How would your family feel? How would you feel, knowing that you let them down?” He leaned back, carefully regarding Castiel.  
  
“No...”  
  
“We both know how much your siblings are looking forward to your _little band_ actually going somewhere. Imagine how crushed they would all be.”  
  
“That isn’t fair.” Castiel said, “Our relationship has nothing to do with the band.”  
  
“Doesn’t it though? Why else would I have given Meg that single? Your family hates me, why would I help them? I did it for you, but I can just as easily take it back.” Crowley added smugly, “You know I’m right.”  
  
What was he supposed to do? Crowley was right. If he pulled the single and they never got the chance to record his family would be devastated, and it would be entirely his fault. Anger made his face warm and he glared across the table. He clenched his hands into fists to hide the fact that they were shaking.  
  
“...Why did you ask me to come here tonight?” He asked, quietly trying to keep his voice steady too.  
  
Crowley grinned at him. “I wanted to tell you the good news! Meg wants a demo and as long as we’re still in business...” He paused, arching an eyebrow haughtily in Castiel’s direction. His shoulders slumped in defeat and that was all the answer Crowley needed. “Then I see no problem with giving it to her for you.”  
  
Castiel stared down at his clenched fists. This was not going the way he had hoped it would. How was it that he was always the one that ended up feeling horrible when it came to dealing with Crowley? Crowley sat back smiling like a cat with cream, or a hawk about to make a kill.  
  
“Can I see you more?”  
  
“Probably not, I’m still very busy.” Castiel’s only response was to glare at the table top.  
  
“Don’t look so dour. You have a foot in the door for a record deal!” His voice was very convincingly, but falsely, cheerful and Castiel fought the urge to throw his tea in his smug face. “Look at the time. I have to cut this short. I’m glad that we could work something out that benefits both parties.” He stood up and leaned over the table, gently caressing Castiel’s cheek with the back of his hand. It didn’t feel loving or affectionate. It felt possessive. “Cheers, love.”  
  
He sat in silence for several minutes after Crowley walked away. The conversation hadn’t resolved anything, and he’d forgotten to ask about the note. There had been no affection in Crowley at all, only his laser-like focus on business. That was all this was to him, business. What was it that Castiel had seen in him in the beginning? He couldn’t even remember. Sure there had been the physical aspects of a relationship, but they had never been able to be a normal couple. He could count the number of actual dates on one hand, and the number of times they had hung out like a normal couple on two. Had it only ever been about the sex?  
  
Well, that was a harrowing thought…  
  
He’d felt guilty about his continuous thoughts about Dean and had hoped that talking to Crowley would ease that guilt, instead he’d just ended up with more piled on and no solution in sight. Maybe he should just tell his family, surely they would understand…but Crowley had been right, they had a lot banked on the band. Especially Gabe. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let them down like that.  
  
He sighed, turning his now empty mug in his hands. Thoughts of Dean floated back into his consciousness. Why did he feel so guilty about this? It wasn’t like they had actually kissed or anything. Nothing had happened. His thoughts screeched to halt at that…nothing had happened. He had no reason to feel guilty, so maybe it wasn’t guilt. Though the anger from his encounter with Crowley still smoldered nicely under the surface he was thrilled and a little confused over this new revelation. This would take a lot more thought…


	4. Chapter 4

When a second note fluttered down out of Castiel’s locker the next Tuesday he just stared at it. Again? He stooped to pick it up from the floor and unfolded it, glancing around. He lucked out and it was one of the few times of the day that his family was nowhere to be found. His heart sped up a little as his fingers brushed over the handwriting. It was different from the loose script of the first note, blockier and more structured.  
  
 _All this feels strange and untrue and I won’t waste a minute without you_.  
  
He frowned, the line sounded familiar and the rhyming scheme led him to think it was a song lyric. He pulled out his cell phone and searched it. Lyrics to ‘Open Your Eyes’ by Snow Patrol came up first. He’d been right it was a song. A small part of him had thought that maybe it was from Crowley, but this wasn’t his style of music. Perhaps Dean then?  
  
He couldn’t stop the smile grin that formed at that thought. He did feel a little foolish that he hoped it was from Dean. He didn’t know much about the new boy, but Snow Patrol clashed with the leather jacket wearing, classic car driving, bad boy persona he witnessed in the hallways. Hey, to each his own. He found a video for the song, plugged in his headphones and let it play. He folded the note back up and tapped it thoughtfully against his bottom lip while he listened. A love song that, good lord...given his situation couldn’t be any closer to the truth for a secret admirer.  
  
Castiel wasn’t sure that he wanted a mystery to contend with on top of his stupidly dramatic love and home life but it did boost his ego to think that someone was genuinely interested in him. Especially after the disaster that was his meeting with Crowley. He mentally shrugged and slid the note into the breast pocket of the ridiculous shirt Anna had forced on him and gathered up the books he needed from Statistics and Chemistry.  
  
Once in class, he again found himself distracted from the lesson. He tapped his pen against the desk and let his mind wander and, of course, it went to thinking about Dean. He had seen the other boy in between classes and the day before while waiting for his siblings to get out of English. They smiled at each other and said their greetings but Dean always seemed to be in a rush.  
  
He found himself surprised, every time their eyes met, at the strong impulse to drag the boy off somewhere and kiss the freckles on his face or run his fingers through short, sandy colored hair. His loud sigh earned him the attention of most of the class and made him flush under their curious stares. When the bell rang he found himself wishing that he was rebel enough to skip class, but his conscience wouldn’t allow him to. He packed his books and notebook into his bag and set off for his last class of the day, determined to put the notes, Dean, and Crowley out of his mind.  
  


  
“Dean?” Dean froze in the act of unceremoniously dumping books into his locker after school. He knew that voice; it had been the soundtrack to more than a few of his recent good dreams. He glanced over his shoulder to find Castiel standing unusually close behind him.  
  
“Hey, Cas.” He turned back to his locker in an attempt to school the panicked look that he could feel on his face. “What’s up?”  
  
“How are you?”  
  
“I’m good, how about yourself?”  
  
“I’m well.”  
  
“That’s good.” Jesus, talk about the most awkward conversation ever. Dean shuffled through the mess of crumpled papers, discarded worksheets, and other school detritus in the bottom of his locker before pushing it shut and turning to face the dark haired boy. Castiel just stared at him in his unblinking way. “Was there something specific that you wanted or...?”  
  
“Oh. No nothing specific. I just wanted to say hello.” Dean shook his head and chuckled, nerves turning it into an awkward sounding titter. And here he thought he’d been found out, about the notes or, heaven forbid, the fact that he’d been sneaking into the music wing to listen to Cas play every couple days. He turned to walk down the hall; Castiel fell into step next to him.  
  
“What kind of music do you listen to?” The questions were innocent but cold dread tried to stop Dean in his tracks; it only managed to trip him up a bit. Keep your cool, he can’t possibly know.  
  
“Oh, uh, classic stuff. Metallica, Zeppelin, the Stones, you know, stuff like that.” Castiel looked at him bewildered. “You know who Led Zeppelin is, right?” The other boy shook his head. “Seriously? You’re a musician and you’ve never heard of Led Zeppelin?”  
  
“Well...” Castiel started slowly, eye distant. “I’ve heard the name before, but I don’t think I’ve actually listened to them.”  
  
“I’ll get you some of their stuff. You should listen to it.”  
  
“That would be nice, thank you.” After a pause, “Do you listen to anything else? Anything more...recent?” That trickle of dread started to freeze his stomach. Picking that song lyric was stupid, even if the lyrics were fitting. Sammy had insisted on listening to this new band that Jess had told him about. Dean had complained and made plenty of noise about having to listen to “whiny, pop, bull crap” but it wasn’t as bad as he had expected it to be. That one line had stuck with him for days afterwards. He should have known giving a secret note with song lyrics in it to a _musician_ was just asking to be found out. Duh, Dean. Sometimes he was so stupid...  
  
“Ah, no. Not really.” He fumbled, looking for a good answer. “I mean, I know some songs but I don’t listen to it.” Castiel looked disappointed. Shit, he had been fishing for info. Maybe he’d managed to throw him off the trail. One could only hope. He didn’t want to leave that look on Cas’ face though. “Hey, maybe you could pick out some recent stuff, I’ll give it a listen.” The other boy brightened at that and Dean could see his mind racing with band suggestions. “I gotta go though. Sammy is waiting for me and he hates it when I’m late.”  
  
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry for keeping you.”  
  
“Nah, it’s cool. I’ll see you around though.” Dean took off down the emptying hallway at a jog, attempting to put as much space between him and Castiel as quickly as he could. The last thing he needed was to be found out. Once he was out in the parking lot he heaved a sigh of relief. He could see Sammy leaning against the Impala, waiting for him.  
  
“Come on, Sammy, we’re losing daylight.” He called as he approached the car. Sam rolled his eyes.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve been here, where were you?” Sam chucked his bag onto the seat and slid in after it. Dean watched as Gabriel’s Camaro left the parking lot before climbing into the Impala.  
  
“Nowhere important.” They sat in silence as Dean maneuvered out of the parking lot and onto the street. After a minute Sam huffed in the seat next to him, staring crossly out the window.  
  
“Rough day, Sammy? Any luck with that Jess girl?”  
  
“She gave me her screen name.”  
  
“Her screen name? What is that, some kind of porn thing?”  
  
“Dean! We’re thirteen! It’s for instant messaging! On the internet!”  
  
“That’s like getting her number then! Why the long face?”  
  
“They’re still calling me Smurf! I could take them all on!”  
  
Dean laughed, “I know you could, but how about you let the arm heal before you go breakin’ the other one?” Sam huffed again, but Dean caught a bit of a grin on his face.  
  
“Hey, Dean?” Sam asked quietly after a few minutes of driving. Dean glanced over at him in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything. He didn’t like the tone in Sammy’s voice, it usually meant he was going to try and bring up some mushy talk about feelings or something equally as uncomfortable. “Do you still have the nightmares?”  
  
Dean didn’t say anything at first. Sammy had not brought up the nightmares in a while. Dean had hoped that maybe they had gone away, unlike his. Sometimes he still woke up in the middle of the night gasping, with images of flames and blood seared into the back of his eyelids. “Do you?”  
  
“Only on occasion, not like I used to.” There were plenty of nights that Dean had been awoken from his own nightmares to Sammy climbing into his bed. He wouldn’t talk about them, but Dean knew. It had been hard for both of them, but coming to Bobby’s had helped. Having a routine and rooms to themselves and the closest thing to family they could get helped.  
  
“Sometimes, Sammy.” He hated lying to him, but it was probably better if he didn’t know. Sam liked to worry and when he worried, he pestered, and Dean really didn’t want him pestering right now. “It’s okay, they’re not so bad anymore.” Sam leaned his head against the window and watched the scenery zip by.  
  
“Good.” If anything, the dreams had intensified. Sometimes they played through the events of that dreadful evening; sometimes he found himself locked inside a labyrinth of burning rooms that he couldn’t find his way out of. Either way he would wake up tense and drenched in sweat, this throat so rough and tight that he almost could not draw a full breath. He’d lie there in bed, willing his muscles to relax and his adrenaline to quit spiking but every time he closed his eyes the flames would come back. It was a vicious cycle, but he’d learned to deal with it, as best he could.  
  
As soon as they pulled up to the house, Dean had a feeling that something was not quite right. Not in an oh-no-there’s-trouble type of way but something was amiss. Bobby’s truck was still parked along the side of the house when he should have been at the garage out back. Sam hopped up the steps, two at a time, and called back something about messaging Jess over his shoulder. Dean stopped in the entryway, dropping his backpack on the floor and feeling out the situation. Bobby was sitting in an armchair in the study, Dean could see him from the door, an open book sat in his lap, forgotten. Aunt Ellen was being abnormally quiet in the kitchen, supposedly preparing dinner...at three in the afternoon. Sensing a disturbance in the force, Dean plastered a smile on his face.  
  
“Hey old man, shouldn’t we be out working on that old Charger?” Silence from the study and the kitchen. Well shit.  
  
Bobby cleared his throat gruffly. “The school called today. You and that fool brother of yours have been late or skipping your after lunch classes every single day since you started school.” Dean stared, thinking hard, trying to decide where he was going with this. “Now your brother can handle a few late days to class, you can’t.”  
  
“It’s important to us-” Dean tried to interrupt but Bobby cut him off.  
  
“Your grades are more important than a hamburger, Dean! I thought you liked Engineering. I don’t want to see you end up like your father, a drop out, screwed up by the military, and too obsessed with his own vendettas to take care of his own family!”  
  
Dean reeled back like he’d been hit in the face. Bobby was crossing a line nobody insulted his dad. “He did the best he could with what he had! We didn’t end up that bad, and what do you care?!” Bobby launched himself up out of the chair, and a few steps across the room in frustration.  
  
“We care because we’re your family you idjit! Now you won’t be working until you can keep your grades up!”  
  
“I won’t live here for free, Bobby! We aren’t charity cases!” Dean countered. Bobby shot him a look at could have peeled the paint clean off a car, but they’d had this argument before.  
  
“Would it kill you to take some damn help once in awhile, boy? This is your opportunity to get somewhere. You just have to keep your Engineering grade up.”  
  
“That’s not even the class I’m failing-” Dean slammed his mouth shut and cursed himself for not shutting up sooner. The ice-cold dread pooling in his stomach was enough to douse his anger. Bobby’s eyes narrowed and Dean heard Ellen quietly step out of the kitchen. She crossed her arms and casually leaned up against the doorframe. “Excuse me?” Her voice was calm and even.  
  
Dean’s blood froze but he forced himself to turn and look at her. The sound of quiet footsteps on the stairs marked the hasty retreat of Sam and Jo, where they had probably been eavesdropping.  
  
Ellen spoke again, her voice dropping into the ‘lie to me and you’ll never see the light of day again’ register. “What was that, Dean?”  
  
Dean swallowed hard and smiled in a sheepish version of the Winchester Charm. “That’s, uh, not the class that I’m failing?” Ellen waved her hand in a ‘carry on’ gesture.  
  
“English, okay?” Dean groaned. “I just don’t care about Hemingway and his love affair with the other dude! And I mean how many times can you really write about a fish?!”  
  
Ellen smiled and Dean felt faint. God, she scared the crap out of him more than anything else ever had, and he wasn’t even her kid. He had a newfound understanding of Jo’s fear.  
  
“Here’s how it goes, Dean. There will be no more working at the garage after school until your English grade is at least a ‘B’. A high ‘B’. You will not skip school for lunch. You will not skip for any reason. If I find out that you do, you will never leave this house again.” She smiled again and Dean paled. “Is that clear?” The worst part was that she hadn’t raised her voice at all, yelling Dean could deal with. He knew how to handle that, but the fact that she’d kept the whole thing conversational was terrifying.  
  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
  
“Good. Now go do your homework, dinner is in an hour.” Dean took his exit and grabbed his bag, booking it up the stairs to his room.  
  
Little blonde Jo and his defector of a brother were sitting on his bed waiting for him.  
  
“Oh man, Momma sounded like she was gonna kill you!” Jo stared at Dean, awe in her eyes. Probably at the fact that he _hadn’t_ been killed. Sam just laughed.  
  
“So, cafeteria food from now on, huh?” He made a face, “gross.” Dean threw himself onto the bed next to them.  
  
“Do you think they could actually find a place to hide my body?”  
  
“Oh, easy!”  
  
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”  
  
Dean chuckled “Yeah, me neither.” Life had been so much easier when it was just him and Sam. No one to answer to, no one to be disappointed when he inevitably failed them. “All right twerps, you heard the woman, homework time.” Once they were out of the room and the door was shut, Dean pulled out his lit book and sat down to read.  
  
Two paragraphs in and he was bored out of his mind. This was considered ‘classic’? Fucking Hemingway. He rested his head on his arms and stared down at the book. No wonder this guy killed himself, he was probably just as bored with this writing as Dean was.  
  
 _Dean’s fingers slid over the smooth planes of Castiel's stomach. He took pleasure in the way the flesh underneath his hands jumped with the contact and the shaky intake of breaths. He dipped his head down to nuzzle at the spot where Castiel's neck and shoulders met, chuckling at the singer’s whimper. His tongue dragged slowly across skin, tasting the salt of his sweat, then gently bit down enjoying the slight gasp from his partner too much._  
  
 _One of his hands slid upwards, burying itself in Castiel’s thick, dark, hair while the other slid just under the waistline of the other boy’s jeans. Taking the go ahead from Castiel’s thrust upwards, Dean undid the button and zipper, hooked his fingers in the material, and shoved downwards._  
  
 _“Cas,” He breathed, kissing his way down along the boy’s neck to his chest and then his stomach. He looked up and met Castiel’s bright blue eyes as he pushed the jeans off further and..._  
  
Dean woke with a start, an embarrassing amount of drool pooling on his copy of _The Old Man and the Sea._  Great. He sat up and wiped the drool off his face with his sleeve, there really wasn’t much to be done about the book.  
  
Footsteps in the hall were the only announcement he had to Sam throwing open his door. “Hey, it’s dinner time.”  
  
“Uh, yeah, be down in a minute.” Sam turned to leave, then stopped. Mentally Dean was willing him to just leave with all he was worth. He was glad that he’d been reading at his desk because it was hiding the unexpected erection he was now sporting.  
  
“Dean, were you sleeping?”  
  
“No.” He said, incredulously. “I was reading, about this fish, who did things...”  
  
“Did things?” A grin was tugging at Sam’s lips, “What kind of things?”  
  
“He, he, you know, swam, and stuff.” Sam was trying really hard not to laugh out loud, his face looked like it was going to split. “Oh shove off, Sammy! Go downstairs.” Sammy cackled as he headed down the hall.  
  


  
The end-of-school bell rang while Dean was still scrubbing the engine grease off his hands. The shop grew blissfully quiet as the other students cleaned up their stations and filed out of the room, Dean liked it when it was quiet and he could just focus on machinery. He turned off the sink and reached for a towel, turning as he dried his hands only to almost crash into Castiel.  
  
“Jesus Christ!”  
  
“Hello, Dean.” Dean managed to backpedal a step and keep from bowling the guy over.  
  
“Seriously, Cas, make more noise when you move!” He at least had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.  
  
“Sorry.” Dean eyed him for a moment then walked over to his table to put away his tools, sinking his used paper towel into the trash can as he cross the floor.  
  
“What are you doing in here anyways? This place seems a little too…messy for you.” He slid tools into the drawers of the table and gathered up his bag.  
  
“I have to admit,” He said, looking around curiously, “I’ve never been in the shop before. I was looking for you though, we have a session this afternoon.”  
  
“A session? What do you mean a session?”  
  
“A tutoring session.” Dean stared at him blankly.  
  
“The office said we’re to have it at your house?”  
  
“Tutoring?”  
  
“Yes, for English.”  
  
“Ellen,” Dean groaned. He hadn’t heard anything more about his grades in over a week; he’d assumed that it had blown over. Leave it to Ellen to plan something like this behind his back. The idea of tutoring was less-than-ideal, but if Castiel was his tutor…that would give an opportunity to hang around him. “You need a ride then?”  
  
Castiel nodded, “That would be pleasant, yes. I’d rather not walk.”  
  
“Well come on then,” Dean chuckled, heading toward the door, “let’s get this over with.”  
  
Sam was already waiting at the car when they got out to the parking lot.  
  
“Dean! I got an A on my algebra test!” He called, waving a paper in the air above his head.  
  
“Good job, Sammy, keep it up and your brain will grow bigger than your head.” Sam made a face at him; one that clearly said _‘Dean, shut up, that’s impossible._ ’  “Hey, this is Cas. He’s coming over this afternoon to work on homework.”  
  
“Hello, Sam.”  
  
“Aunt Ellen got you a tutor?” Sam asked the laughter barely kept out of the question. Dean glared at him while Castiel just smiled. Kid was way too damn smart for his own good sometimes.  
  
“Shut it and get in the car or I’m leaving you here.” Sam grinned at him and climbed into the back seat. Dean slid behind the wheel of the Impala while Castiel shut the passenger door. The engine rumbled as they pulled out of the school parking lot and onto the road. Bobby and Ellen’s house wasn’t that far from the school and it was only ten minutes before they were pulling into the driveway. Sam was busy babbling to Castiel about some book Jess had told him to read. Castiel, who had read the book, asked Sam about the books that he read and suggested a few others that he might enjoy. Sam bolted into the house as soon as he could get out of the car, excited to show off his test.  
  
"Hey, Cas?" Castiel stopped before the stairs leading up to the porch and turned back to Dean. "I'll give you fair warning, Ellen might seem a little...nosey, and Bobby acts like a crotchety old man but they both are good people. They mean well. I just wanted you to have a heads up, man."  
  
"I'm sure it will be fine, Dean."  
  
Then Castiel walked into the house, took off his shoes, and pulled out more manners than Dean had ever seen in his life. To him “ma’am” was a term reserved for situations you weren’t sure you would get out of alive, not a day-to-day word. The dark haired boy even handled Jo with good humor, despite her bewildering hostility towards him and his “stupid fancy clothes and stupid fancy hair.” Dean was pretty sure that Aunt Ellen was already trying to think of ways to keep Castiel around long-term to keep Dean in line.  
  
They started out at the kitchen table so that Ellen could keep an eye on things, also known as making sure Dean wasn’t slacking off, but the little blonde devil kept trying to fly paper planes into Castiel’s hair or asking questions to distract Dean. With a final shout of “Joanna Beth!” from Ellen, they decided that Dean’s room might be a quieter place to study.  
  
He had to admit, tutoring with Cas was far from terrible. He was somewhat of a slave driver when it came to making sure he stayed on track, but he was patient and helpful. Dean sat at his desk with his notebook open, trying to answer some discussion questions like a good little student while Castiel sat in the middle of Dean’s bed, scribbling something into a flimsy brown notebook that had seen much better days.  
  
Despite wanting to do a good job, Dean was having a hard time focusing. His eyes kept sliding over to look at the other boy and every time, moments from his dream would flash through his mind. Seemingly possessing a sixth sense, Cas would catch him staring and shoot him a Dean-why-aren’t-you-working-on-your-questions glance. Each time Dean’s blush got worse.  
  
He had never really felt any sort of attraction towards another guy before, having left and trail of girlfriends and flings in his wake. Castiel was different though, and not just in the fact that he was a dude. There was something about him and it made Dean slightly uncomfortable with how quickly he had developed an interest in the boy. He didn’t like guys, but somehow this one had managed to slip under his skin and he didn’t even know it. The rest of the study session passed amicably enough. Castiel would occasionally lean over Dean’s shoulder to look over his work and help find examples where Hemingway had tried to express his main ideas. Dean found himself requiring more and more help towards the end, if only to breathe in the clean scent that followed Castiel around.  
  
God, it was like fucking sunshine.  
  
Dean was trying to find an excuse, now that his homework was thoroughly done, to keep Castiel close to him when Ellen yelled up the stairs that dinner was done. “Castiel Milton, don’t you dare think you aren’t staying for dinner after dealing with that boy all afternoon!” She added. While Castiel blushed and moved to the door to calmly thank her for her invitation, Dean caught a glimpse of the scrawled notes in the singer’s notebook. Lyrics, and what looked like quick sketches on musical notes haphazardly filled the page. Dean smiled, Castiel was always so well put together, and it was nice to see a messier side of him.  
  
As they headed down the stairs they were almost bowled over by a screaming Jo and a roaring Sam who, from what Dean gathered from Jo’s yelling, was pretending to be a werewolf. He grinned at Castiel.  
  
“Sorry, this house is a little loud. Also, be prepared to offer marriage to Aunt Ellen once you taste her food. Trust me, you’ll want to.” Castiel chuckled.  
  
“I believe you. Though I should probably let Anna know that I won’t make it home for supper.” As he excused himself to call his sister on the porch, Dean slid into the kitchen with slight color staining his cheeks at Castiel’s laugh and ran straight into a wall of unadulterated family speculation. Minus Jo who was drawing on her placemat. It appeared to be a picture of her as a knight, slaying what looked like a Dragon with Cas’ hair and glasses, and saving a...was that Dean in a dress? He shook his head.  
  
Bobby was sitting at the table with the newspaper and very pointedly _not_ looking at his not-nephew while his wife studied him quietly, if not openly. Sam was not so quiet, nor composed if his wide-open mouth was any indication.  
  
“Better watch out, Sammy. Birds’ll crap in there if you leave it like that.”  
  
Sam sputtered, “You like him! You _like_ him. You like _him_!” Ellen sat back in her chair, arms crossed, and a bemused expression on her face.  
  
“Jesus Christ, how many times do you think you can say that sentence, Samantha? Keep it down!”  
  
“You aren’t going to deny it?”  
  
“Deny what?”  
  
“That you’re gay?! He thought his brother was going to have a stroke.  
  
“No, I’m not gay, damn it. Just because I like one guy does not make me gay.” he ran his hands through his hair. He hadn’t really intended to let him family in on the while hot-for-tutor thing, but he sighed. Whatever. He knew they would be supportive.  
  
“Next time, boy,” Bobby said gruffly from behind his paper, “try not to wear it on your face.” Dean grumbled while Ellen just laughed and began dishing out green beans.  
  
“Can we not have this conversation, please? Cas could walk-”  
  
“I could what?” Dean almost jumped out of his skin. He whipped around to smile at the dark haired boy and gesture to the table.  
  
“You could walk right in and the drinks aren’t even poured!” He groaned internally at his less than stellar cover-up. Ellen, bless her, played along however, and forced her monster-in-training to pour the milk while everyone settled back down to eat. Bobby and Ellen tried to make it as not awkward as possible but Sam was still staring openly between Castiel and Dean as if they had just donned dresses and started singing show tunes. Jo, sitting across the table from his friend, was more interested in glaring than in her mashed potatoes.  
  
“What’s so special about you?” Dean winced at her bluntness, no doubt a direct result of her mom and adoptive dad.  
  
“Joanna Beth.” Her mother’s voice was light, pleasant even.  
  
“Really,” Jo continued, “are you even smart? Dean doesn’t need you.” The Winchester in question felt mortification rising but looked over to find Castiel valiantly trying to hide a smile behind his napkin. After removing it, he managed to address the ten-year-old with a serious manner.  
  
“I assure you, miss. I have a 4.5 GPA, have never received less than an A in an English class, and I feel quite qualified for the position.”  
  
Jo crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. “Whatever. I could still drink you under the table.”  
  
“JOANNA BETH HARVELLE-SINGER! That is IT! Room. Now.”  
  
“But Momma! He’s too fancy!” Jo cried, trying to make her case.  
  
Ellen simply stared her daughter down. Bobby stood, grabbed the little girl around the waist and carting her upstairs over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She continued to shout about how “Dean needs a real woman, not some pretty boy in glasses!” Dean sighed and shoved the last of his dinner into his mouth. Castiel finished as well, wiping his mouth politely with his napkin.  
  
“Well that wasn’t the least bit embarrassing.” Dean said, carrying empty plates to the sink.  
  
Castiel smiled,  “You're family is lovely, even little Joanna.”  
  
“IT’S JO, STUPID!” Carried down from the second floor.  
  
“You are equally as pleasant, Sam.” Castiel continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. Sam made a face and mumbled something about homework before taking off up the stairs as well. Dean continued to help clear the table but Ellen shooed them outside. They sat in companionable silence on the front steps for a few minutes; Dean leaning against the railing post while Castiel sat on the top step near him, before the singer’s phone buzzed. Dean watched him slip it out and send out a quick text before setting it on the porch next to him.  
  
“Your family?”  
  
“Oh, yes. Balthazar is complaining about having to eat Anna’s cooking since I’m not home to prepare dinner like I normally do.”  
  
Dean laughed, “You’re family is something else, man.”  
  
Castiel responded with a laugh of his own. “Yes I suppose they are. You have a rather charming family as well.”  
  
“Don’t buy into it.” Dean snorted, “It’s all an act. They only act civilized when company is around.” Castiel smiled and they lapsed into comfortable silence again. “So what’s up with your family? Where are your parents?”  
  
“They travel a lot, so they’re almost never home.”  
  
“What do they do?”  
  
“Well, in Gabriel’s words they’re bible-thumping, hypocritical sycophants. I just call them religious public speakers.”  
  
“I wasn’t aware Gabriel even knew that many big words.” Castiel chuckled. “I take it you guys don’t get along well?”  
  
Castiel shrugged, “They mean well enough, but no, we don’t really see eye to eye. I get along with them all right, but Gabriel...he and my father butt-heads often.”  
  
“I can’t even begin to imagine why.” Dean said innocently. This elicited another smile from Cas, which sent a little thrill through Dean  
  
“What about you? Ellen and Robert are your aunt and uncle.” Dean snorted.  
  
“Robert? Man, don’t let Bobby hear you call him that...unofficially they’re our aunt and uncle. Bobby was friends with my dad before he...” Dean’s throat tightened and he cleared it gruffly. “Died.”  
  
“Oh, I’m very sorry.”  
  
“Nah, it’s okay. Things are better now.” The boys were silent for a while, watching darkness descend on the scrapyard. “Can I ask you something, Cas?”  
  
“Of course.” Dean fidgeted with the loose strands around a hole in his jeans. How was the best way to go about this? If he was honest with himself he was totally into the guy and there was only one way to find out if there was a chance. Usually he was a bit more suave than he was managing to pull off. God damn, why was he so nervous? He rubbed suddenly damp palms on the thighs of his jeans.  
  
“That other night, at the party, when we almost...” He trailed off, unable to finish the question.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“We’ll I was wondering if you...would you want to...” He wouldn’t meet Cas’ gaze but he could feel the singer’s eyes on him. It was quiet for a while; the only sound was the breeze rustling the trees around the yard. Dean sat as still as possible, the terrifying thrill of putting himself out there and free falling coursed through him.  
  
“I’m seeing someone, Dean.” Castiel said, almost sadly. The breath that Dean had been holding whooshed out of him like he’d hit the ground hard.  
  
“Oh.” He wasn’t sure whether to feel heartbroken or angry. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “No big deal, I was just curious.” He shifted uncomfortably on the steps.  
  
“I’m sorry, Dean. I can leave if you would like me to.”  
  
“No, dude, it’s fine. I’m not going to kick you out. I’m not a chick.” Dean said. Castiel visibly relaxed at that, letting out a sigh of relief. “Is Anna seeing anyone?” Dean hooted with laughter and fell over onto the porch gasping when Cas whipped around to stare at him wide eyed.  
  
“Pardon?” Dean tried to answer but couldn’t seem to get enough air to talk.  
  
“But, Dean-”  
  
“Dude!” Dean choked out between gasps. “I’m...kidding. You really need to get out more. Learn how to take a joke.” When he finally managed to get ahold of himself and wipe the tears from his eyes Cas was staring out over the scrap yard, frowning. “Hey?” Dean hedged quietly. “It was only a joke.”  
  
“Anna wouldn’t like you, Dean.” It was Dean’s turn to frown.  
  
“What do you mean by that?” His tone was unintentionally sharp. Castiel turned to stare at Dean in that awkward way that he had. Like he could see every inner thought he had, every insecurity down to his very soul. It made Dean shift uncomfortably on the steps. When he didn’t offer up any further explanation they both sat in silence.  
  
Dean jumped when Castiel’s phone went off again, vibrating against the floorboards. The boy checked it and sighed. “More whining from your siblings?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“They never let up do they?” Castiel smiled faintly in the darkness.  
  
“In their defense, Anna’s cooking is pretty terrible.” Dean laughed, imagining little miss perfect incapable of boiling water properly.  
  
“I can take you home if you need to feed the animals.” Cas sighed again and pushed himself up from the steps.  
  
“Yeah, I probably should. Thank you.”  
  
“No problem, man.” Cas grabbed his jacket and bag, and thanked Ellen for dinner while Dean grabbed his keys. Then they were in the quiet confines of the car, Journey played from the stereo. When Castiel started to climb out of the car in his driveway, Dean stopped him with a hand on his arm. The dark haired boy turned to look at him, glancing down at where his hand rested on his arm and then back up to his eyes.  
  
“Thanks.” Dean said awkwardly, pulling his hand back. He was not sure why he’d grabbed him, but it was hard to pull away once he’d done it. “For the tutoring, I mean...how often are we having these sessions?”  
  
“The school said three times a week.”  
  
“Oh.” Cas must have heard the disappointment that he’d tried to hide from his voice because the side of his mouth quirked up slightly.  
  
“If you feel you need more assistance, I’m sure I could find more time to help you out.”  
  
“It’s just that Mrs. Wilson is assigning papers soon...” Castiel slid back into the passenger seat. It wasn’t a total lie, but it was a stretch of the truth. Papers wouldn’t be assigned for several more weeks, but these study sessions meant more time to hang around Cas. That Dean could live with, even if it was under the guise of studying.  
  
“I have time tomorrow afternoon, if that works.”  
  
“Yeah, that works.” Castiel smiled and climbed out of the car, pulling his bag out after him.  
  
“Thank you again for driving me home, Dean.” He said, sticking his head back in the open door, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
  
Dean watched until he was inside the house, a grin spread across his face the whole drive home.


	5. Chapter 5

The bell rang and Castiel heaved a sigh of relief as the hallways started to empty. While switching out his books for the first half of the day with end of the day books he took his time. His next class was Independent Music Study, no one was there to take attendance or make sure that he wasn’t tardy. As long as he checked in with the orchestra teacher and could pass his exams no one really cared what he did; and walking through the empty halls was a nice break from the crowds. He pulled at the sleeves of the jacket Anna had forced him into that morning, taking it off and hanging it up in his locker. She would comment on it later when he saw her, she always did. _How could you ruin an outfit like that?_ He could hear her say. She meant well, and he mostly didn’t mind, but sometimes he just wanted to wear normal clothes to school. He tucked the rest of his school work into his bag and was closing his locker when he froze, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling to attention.  
  
“Writing more songs about me today, love?” The sneer in Crowley’s voice was palpable and it made Castiel’s throat tighten uncomfortably and he swallowed, trying to clear it.  
  
“Go away, Crowley. I have nothing to say to you.” He flipped his bag shut and turned to walk away but the other boy shoved him up against the lockers, using his arms to keep Castiel in place.  
  
“Oh, you’re not still upset about the other night are you? It really is the best for both of us, yeah?” Crowley leaned in closer until Castiel could feel their breath mingling. He tried in vain to quash the excitement rising in his gut but his brain was remembering what it felt like to kiss those lips inches from his face. He felt his face flush and blood rush through his veins.  
  
“That’s what I thought.” Crowley purred, pressing his knee between Castiel’s thighs. He twisted his hand up in the back of all that dark hair and used it to pull Castiel’s head back. Crowley let out a shuddering breath against his neck, leaving a warm, damp trail up to his chin. Castiel’s eyes darted back and forth, looking for anyone, but the hall was deserted.  
  
“This is how this works, _I_ decide when we’re done. You are _mine_ , that’s the deal. Understand?” Castiel did his best to glare at Crowley but it did little to deter him from tightening his grip to a painful degree. He hated this, the powerless feeling that overcame him and the aching need that he suffused his limbs. He fought against his body’s betrayal as best he could. “Now, be a good little angel and tell me how sorry you are.” Castiel opened his mouth, took a shaky breath and exhaled slowly. His lips tried to form the words but not a sound came out, he couldn’t do it, he wasn’t sorry.  
  
Another painful yank on his hair tipped his head back further, “ _Say it_.” His brain screamed at him to stop this, fight back, do anything but give in. If he gave in he felt like he would lose a piece of himself, cowing down to Crowley’s pushing. But if he didn’t...his family...he just couldn’t let them down. His lips began to move again.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
The voice echoed down the hallway, sharp and harsh, full of threat. Crowley immediately stepped back enough to put some space between them, but gave a sharp tug on Castiel’s hair before letting go. Castiel sagged back against the lockers and squeezed his eyes shut, giving thanks to whoever it was that had forgotten whatever inane item it was that had brought them back to this hall. He looked to the source of the blessed interruption and saw Dean coming down the hall towards them like a storm cloud, all full of malevolence and ill intent. Castiel did not think it was possible to feel more flustered than he already did, but as his pulse leapt up into his throat at the sight of the new boy he experienced a new kind of uncomfortable.  
  
“Can we help you with something? Directions maybe?” Crowley asked, the disdain in his voice barely masked. His mouth was twisted into an annoyed scowl.  
  
“What’s going on here? Are you alright?” Dean asked stopping next to Castiel, who nodded. He felt his cheeks warm uncomfortable. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden?  
  
“Just a disagreement.” The look on Dean’s face said he did not buy it, but he also did not push the matter.  
  
“Why don’t you just go on your way, buddy?” He said to Crowley. Castiel glanced at Crowley’s face; he was staring at Dean, bemused, but not moving. His eyes flicked to Castiel. “It wasn’t a _suggestion._ ” The promise of violence in Dean’s tone startled Castiel, drawing his eyes back. Dean looked like he was ready to hit something. Crowley just glared at him.  
  
“I’ll deal with you later, love.” He bit out, not taking his eyes off of Dean, the way you would watch a dangerous animal. Castiel wasn’t looking forward to that later conversation. “And you,” He jabbed Dean in the chest with his finger, “we would do well not to cross paths again.” What that he turned and stalked away. Neither of them moved until he had rounded the corner and left the hallway, finally Dean turned back to Castiel, his stance visibly relaxing.  
  
“Jesus, what a douche. Are you sure you’re alright, Cas?” Castiel glanced up quickly at the nickname. The concerned look in Dean’s eyes surprised Castiel yet again. They didn’t know each other well, why was Dean so worried about him? He sighed, straightened up, and ran a hand through his hair.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Dean.” The concern didn’t leave Dean’s face.  
  
“What was that?”  
  
“Nothing. As I said, just a disagreement.”  
  
“Bull, whatever I walked in on wasn’t _just a disagreement_.”  
  
“It was...he was upset. We had an argument a few days ago.” Dean’s brow furrowed further, Castiel could almost see him putting the pieces together, it was just a matter of time- there it was. Dean’s eyes widened.  
  
“Him? Are you serious? You’re dating that piece of-” Castiel jumped at Dean, slapping a hand over his mouth before his yelling started to attract attention. In doing so he’d pushed Dean back against the lockers, much as he had just been. A rush of adrenaline thrilled through him suddenly.  
  
“Shhhh.” He hissed, inches away from Dean’s face, yet again. They really had to stop getting into these situations; he had a feeling it was going to get him into more trouble than he needed at the moment. “It’s complicated. You can’t tell anyone, especially not my family. They don’t know and I’d like to keep it that way.” Dean huffed out a breath through his nose and grunted. Castiel backed off a bit, lowering his hand. “Sorry.” Dean shook himself and glared at Castiel.  
  
“Hey, you want to date someone like that, who am I to stop you?”  
  
“It’s not as simple as that...and it’s not really by choice.” Castiel muttered.  
  
Dean shrugged, “Whatever floats your boat, man.”  
  
“No, Dean...I...” Why did he feel like he had to explain this? “He’s helping out the band...” he finished, lamely.  
  
“So...what? You’re dating him because of it?”  
  
“No. I’m not sure things are working out, but...if we break up he’ll pull our chance at a record deal.” Dean stared at him.  
  
“He’s blackmailing you.” It very obviously wasn’t a question but Cas nodded sullenly anyways. “It’s because of your family isn’t it?” Another nod. Dean cursed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Couldn’t you just explain to them what’s going on?”  
  
“No!” He felt his eyes go wide and frantic, “I can’t tell them. You can’t either. They, Crowley and Gabe, don’t get along. Gabe would be so pissed and all of them would be absolutely crushed if we didn’t get this deal. Crowley’s cousin is a music producer so he gave her one of our songs and now she wants a demo. This could be the chance, I can’t be the one to screw it up...”  
  
Dean sighed, “Okay, I get it. I think it’s stupid, but I get it. I won’t tell anyone. But if he tries to pull anything like I saw today again, you tell me. First thing. Got that?” Castiel nodded. They stood staring at it each in the hallway for a few more moments until Dean looked away. “Come on. We’re late.”  
  
“No one is waiting for me, Dean.”  
  
“Fine, well, I’ll be late and I don’t need anymore absences from class.” They walked side by side down the hallway out to the main hall where they had to head in opposite directions.  
  
“Dean? Did you call me Cas?”  Dean had the grace to look at least slightly embarrassed, scratching at the back of his neck.  
  
“Ha, sorry about that. Guess it just slipped out...”  
  
“No, it’s- I like it.” Castiel gave him a small smile. “I’ll see you after school.”  
  
“Okay, yeah. See you then.” Castiel turned and walked towards the music wing. He didn’t see that Dean stood there watching him until he rounded the bend in the hallway and couldn't be been anymore. His heartbeat didn’t return to normal until he was safely inside his music room.  
  


  
Dean returned home that night, after dropping Castiel off at home after tutoring, to find Sam rooting through his backpack. He cleared his throat from the doorway and raised an eyebrow at his little brother.  
  
“Lose something?” Sam startled but then made a face at Dean.  
  
“Yeah, we don’t have any pencils in this house and you have absolutely no organization. How the hell do you find anything ever?” He shuffled around in Dean’s backpack, pulling out random scraps of paper and empty wrappers from the bottom of the bag, until he pulled out a folded scrap of paper. Before Dean could tell him to keep his annoying, nosey brother to mind his own business and snatch the paper from him, Sam had opened and read it. He shot Dean and look that was more fitting on an FBI detective, but he pulled it off, even if he was sitting on the floor. “What’s this?”  
  
“Nothing. Garbage.”  
  
“Mmhmmm. ‘let him think that I am more man than I am, and I will be so’.” Sammy read it in a dramatic low voice. “Is this for Castiel?”  
  
Dean sputtered, “The fuck man? No!! It was just, uh, homework. Something Mrs. Wilson said in class.” Sam continued to stare at him a goofy, I-caught-you-smirk twisting up the corner of his mouth.  
  
“So I guess your sudden interest in my music and asking about lyrics for a band that I know you don’t like was for ‘homework’ as well?” Dean chose to remain silent, glaring him down, hoping that Sam would let it go. He should have known better. Sam plopped himself down onto Dean’s desk chair. “Look, Dean. I know you like him. Which is weird, but I’ll get over my brother liking guys another day.” He stuck his tongue out to belay the bite of his words. Dean rolled his eyes and sank onto his bed.  
  
“Whatever, yes it’s for Cas. Sometimes I leave him notes like I used to do for you when you were having a bad day. Commence mocking, please.”  
  
Sam laughed at him, “You’re an idiot. The only thing I’m going to mock you for is the fact that you are completely giving yourself away with this one.”  
  
Dean blinked at him. “What? I am not.”  
  
“You totally are! A Hemingway quote, Dean? Really? _Really_? Because, you know, it’s not like he was over here to help you study the writings of...oh, what’s that author’s name...oh right! Hemingway!” Dean glared at him and crossed his arms. It was hard to come up with suitable quotes that weren’t overly girly but were still easily anonymous. Some credit for doing well so far would have been nice.  
  
“Do you have anything helpful to say or are you just going to be a critical brat?” Sam ignored the insult.  
  
“I don’t have to help you. What are you even trying to say? Are you saying hi? Telling him you want to jump him? Confessing your undying love and pledging you nonexistent virginity to him?”  
  
Dean snagged the pillow off his bed and chucked it at Sam’s face, crowing with glee when it nailed his squarely. When Sam huffed and headed towards the door, however, he lunged up and pulled his little brother under his arm, ruffling his hair.  
  
“Aw, come on, Sammy. You know I didn’t mean it. Help me out.”  
  
“Ugh, fine! Just get off me.” Dean ended up sprawled on his bed and Sam back in the chair. They bandied about ideas, well, Dean offered ideas while Sam just shot them all down.  
  
“Boring.”  
  
“Obvious.”  
  
“You’re not even trying now.”  
  
“Van Halen lyrics? Really? Idiot.”  
  
After an hour of this, Dean was ready to give up. Sam’s next question caught him by surprise. “Why Hemingway, anyways?” Dean scratched at his nose while he thought.  
  
“I don’t know. The first note was just a quote that I liked. I thought he might like a note, but just saying ‘cheer up’ seemed lame. The second was a whim. I guess I wanted this one to be smarter?” He flushed a little and Sam about fell out of his chair.  
  
“You’re trying to _impress him_? Jesus, Dean, how much do you actually like this guy?” Dean groaned and rolled over to bury his face in the bedspread, which prompted a whistle from Sam. “Well damn, I guess we need to break out the big guns.” With that he scampered out of the room and returned a few minutes later, a thin book in his hands.  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“Neruda.”  
  
“Nair du what?”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and dropped down onto the bed next to Dean. “Pablo Neruda, he’s a poet.” Dean pushed himself upright.  
  
“No way, no poetry. I’m not a chick. How much more gay can you get?” Sam pulled out Bitch Face #72: _You are being ridiculous_.  
  
“Dean, you’re leaving secret love notes for a _male friend_. I think you need to stop worrying about whether or not it’s gay because, spoiler alert, this whole thing is. Now if you want him to be impressed, this is the route to go without being overly feminine. He writes about sex. You’d like it if you ever read anything more than porno mags.”  
  
Dean ran a hand through his hair. Poetry. Ugh. “Wait, Sammy. Why do you have a book of sex poetry?”  
  
“Jesus, Dean. Just read the poem.” Dean grumbled but thrust one hand out to take the book. He glanced down at the page.  
  
“This is too long!”  
  
“Use the last few lines then.”  
  
 _and it follow that I am, because you are:_  
 _it follows from ‘you are’, that I am, and we:_  
 _and, because of love, you will, I will,_  
 _We will, come to be._  
  
Dean read it and reread it several times before throwing the book down on the bed. “I’m sorry, but I’m really stupid. I don’t get this at all. I don’t know what this means.” Sam took the book back and smiled indulgently at Dean.  
  
“He’s talking about how he can’t exist without this other person, and that person in turn doesn’t really exist without him. How they are made to be with one another. Like fate, I guess.”  
  
“Uh huh.” Dean sounded skeptical, “That’s pretty chick flick if you ask me.”  
  
“This from the guy who’s been stuffing notes into the locker of a boy that he’s only known for a short amount of time. You’re officially starring in your own romantic comedy, Dean. Deal with it.” Sam squealed when Dean reached over and pinched him.  
  
“All right, whatever. I still don’t get it, but if you think Cas will like it then we’ll go with it.”  
  
  
Now, as he stood in front of Castiel’s locker, he started to second-guess himself. Maybe this quote wasn’t such a good choice. He didn’t have a lot of time before shop class, but after shooting glances down the hallways to make sure no one was around, he stalled, playing with the note folded in his hand. Was it too creepy to leave notes like this? Weird? Awkward? As the tardy bell rang he followed his impulse and shoved the note in-between the slats and booked it down to shop.  
  
Whatever, despite being shot down by Castiel after their first study session, they had been texting back and forth steadily throughout the last couple days and late into the night. To Dean that meant they could be friends, at least.  
  
So what if he felt like a giant girl? It was probably for nothing at all.  
  


  
Dean shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The Milton clan, sans Castiel, surrounded him. Someone had grabbed him by back of his shirt right out of shop and before he could protest, or throw a punch, he found himself shoved into the backseat of Gabriel’s ridiculously painted Camaro. Now they were all sitting in the living room of the guesthouse that Balthazar and Israfael called home like a bad episode of Intervention.  
  
“So, are all of you musical prodigies or something?”  
  
Gabriel laughed as he stood up from grabbing beer out of the fridge. He tossed one to Dean, handed another to Anna, and cracked one open for himself.  
  
“Not at all. That’s really just Cassy’s thing. He's the brains behind most of the music. We all have out bits, but we mainly just play our instruments, and parts, in Castiel: The Musical.”  
  
Dean considered that for a moment. Balthazar was sprawled on the couch listening to something on his iPod, his legs in his sister’s lap. Israfael paused from tapping out the beat to one of the band’s songs on a small electric drum kit balanced on her brother’s legs. “We aren’t nearly as talented the youngling. I, for one, can’t write lyrics worth shit.”  
  
Anna spoke up from where she sat in a wingback chair shoved into the corner of the room. “I can’t write music at all. I just give the lyrics that I come up with to Castiel.”  
  
Dean frowned, “You all play so well, though. I just figured...”  
  
Gabriel laughed again and took a swallow of beer before plopping himself down on the floor in front of the couch. “The parents insisted that we were all “well-rounded”, so we were forced to endure many years of private lessons and training. Iz and Balthy were not excluded from that either, despite the fact that they were still in London at the time.” Gabriel’s smile was just a touch bitter. “We were all going to be shining examples of the Milton brand. They lucked out that we all ended up loving at least one of the instruments they forced upon us. The other extracurriculars though...all the fencing and polo.”  
  
“Don’t forget the sewing!” Anna added.  
  
“Or the bloody _dancing_!” groaned Balthazar. “I swear I will go back in time and murder whomever invented the waltz. Nothing quite as awkward as having to twirl around like a moron with your sister.”  
  
“Ugh, do you remember the goddamn _embroidery_? I’ll take dancing the fucking Cha Cha Slide over having to do one more rose on a pillow.” Israfael added, her face twisted with disgust.  
  
Dean stared at them in abject horror. “Dude, I thought my childhood was rough.” The Milton’s laughed.  
  
“You know what though. Cassy took to them all like a fish to water. I guess the poor kid was just hoping that if he was good at it all, maybe our parents wouldn’t suck so much.” That bitter smile flashed across Gabriel’s face again.  
  
Dean took a drink from his beer and looked around at the family spread around him. He couldn’t imagine growing up and being forced to participate in such ridiculous activities. His dad had been strict but he had never made them do something as asinine as dance lessons. Everything he and Sam had been forced to learn would at least be useful at some point in their lives, if not already.  
  
“So, uh, lessons-from-hell stories aside, why was I kidnapped? Cas is gonna be pissed if I’m late to the tutoring thing.”  
  
Balthazar waved a hand lazily in Dean’s direction. “Nah, we already texted him from your phone. You told him you were going to be late because you wanted to talk to the pop culture teacher. By the way, here you go.” He produced Dean’s phone from a pocket and tossed it back to Dean. Dean swallowed. He hadn’t even realized it was missing...what had he gotten himself into?  
  
“You guys are kinda scary when you want to be, you know that right?” Anna leaned forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her knees, and fixed Dean with a scrutinizing stare. The other Milton’s followed suit, abandoning their distractions to stared fixedly while Dean fidgeted. Even Gabriel was missing his trademark smirk. Dean laughed nervously, “Okay. What did I do? Did I murder someone?”  
  
Anna laced her fingers together primly. “What are your intentions towards Castiel?” Dean snorted at the cliché wording while his insides turned to ice. Had one of them seen him this afternoon? Shit, had they found the note? Panic rolled through him in waves but he managed to keep his features schooled. “We’ve been watching you over the last few weeks and we see how much time you two spend together. You like him, Dean, but how much?”  
  
Dean felt his cheeks heat up and stared pointedly at the floor. First his family and now Cas’, Was he really that obvious? A little voice in his head noted that if he was, why hadn’t Cas noticed yet? Maybe he had...oh god, what if he had?  
  
“I, uh, don’t have any intentions?”  
  
“Don’t lie to us, Kansas. We’ve all seen the smitten, puppy dog eyes you look at him with.” Gabriel said.  
  
Dean took a sip of beer, his mouth felt dry and cottony. “He really doesn’t seem interested, in that, uh, way. He just tutors me. We’re just friends. Nothing else is going on, I swear.” Anna flopped back and let out a disappointed sigh. The other Milton’s seemed to deflate as well; Gabriel was full on pouting. “What the hell, guys? I thought I was going to get the ‘don’t hurt out little brother or we’ll kill you’ speech.” Dean’s confusion leaked into his voice.  
  
Gabriel groaned, his head tipping back to rest on the edge of the couch next to Israfael’s legs. “We were really hoping that there was more going on. Besides, if we were going to give you The Speech it would be much more creative and disturbing than ‘we’ll kill you’. Give us some credit.”  
  
“Cassy has some shit-head of a boyfriend/crush/something, but for all that we are all-knowing and amazing, we haven’t been able to figure out who it is.” Balthazar added. “If you couldn’t tell from the dip into angsty and emo that we’ve taken, it’s making him miserable. We’ve decided that we like you. We’d be okay with him dating you instead because well, we know where you live if you hurt him.”  
  
Dean thought back to his run-in with Cas and Crowley in the hallway at school. Cas had said that his family didn’t like Crowley, but was it his place to say something about it to them? No, Cas had asked him not to say anything. If he wasn’t anything else, he was a man of his word. He put his hands up in surrender, “I’m really sorry, guys, I’d like to help but I don’t know who your brother is dating. Like I said, he hasn’t shown more than a passing interest in me outside of just being friends.” He checked the time on his phone, attempting to ignore the awkward silence and disappointed stares. “I really should get back though. Cas is stranded at school and if I don’t show up for tutoring, both Cas and Aunt Ellen will slaughter me.”  
  
Gabriel nodded, “Come on, we’ll bring you back.”  
  
Anna stayed behind, but Balthazar and Israfael tagged along. Dean sat in the back seat across from Israfael, who openly glared at him.  
  
“You’re sure there’s nothing you can do? Angsty beats are so boring.”  
  
Dean glanced at her, eyes wide. “What do you want me to do? Throw myself on him and hope for the best?”  
  
She shrugged, “That would be a start.”  
  
Dean snorted and shook his head. “Look. Yeah, I like him, but if he doesn’t like me then I’m not going to possibly ruin our friendship just because you guys don’t like playing emo music.” His admission was met with silence for the rest of the short drive back to school. It may have come out a little harsher than he had intended but damn it, he did like Cas and he wasn’t sure that the feeling was mutual beyond being friends. Screw these nut jobs if they were going to try and ruin the minimal contact that he had with Cas.  
  
When Gabriel screeched to a halt behind the school Dean winced at what the sudden stop did to the Camaro’s tires. He was hustled out of the car and into a Mission Impossible-type run through the halls. He even caught Balthazar humming the theme as he poked his head around a corner to check that the coast was clear. Israfael even somersaulted across the floor and came up into a crouch along the lockers. She nodded to Dean who started to walk around the corner into the hall where his Pop Culture class was when he was dragged back by his collar. Balthazar grabbed his face with both hands and stared at him from a few inches away.  
  
“We were not here. You did not see us. We never spoke. You. Never. Left. This. School.” He said insistently, emphasizing each word. With that the duo took off back down the hallway, cackling like maniacs.  
  
 _What the ever-loving fuck_?  
  
When he rounded the corner Castiel looked up from the floor where he’d been sitting, scribbling in his notebook again. His head tilted in confusion. “I thought you said you were meeting with your teacher? No one was there.” Dean ran and hand through his hair sheepishly, mind racing.  
  
“Uh, sorry. You caught me. I was called into the office for yelling at some kid in shop. I just didn’t want you to know. It was stupid.” Castiel stared at him for a few beats then shrugged. Dean grinned, he wasn’t really sure Cas bought it but at least he let it go. Castiel began packing up his notebook.  
  
“Hey, could we study at your place today? Jo has been on this singing kick lately, man, she could peel paint off a car.”  
  
The other boy’s mouth twitched in humor, “Would Ellen be okay with that? What about Sam?”  
  
“I’ll call her, but yeah, she knows you’ll keep me in line and Sam has some after school thing today.” That seemed like enough to placate Castiel for now and they chatted while Dean drove back to the Milton house. He kept up the conversation easily enough but his thoughts kept wandering back to the talk with Castiel’s family.  
  
He definitely got the “douche nozzle” vibes from that Crowley bastard, but could he really speak out against their relationship and not have it be for selfish reasons? He did wonder if the rest of Castiel’s family had really meant it when they said they would rather have him date Castiel? He sighed inwardly and tuned back into what Castiel was talking about in the passenger seat as they sped towards the Milton home. It wasn’t worth thinking seriously about anyways. Castiel wouldn’t like someone like him anyhow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter! Hopefully worth it!

Since Thanksgiving break started the next day Dean had managed to convince Castiel that they didn’t need to study, instead they could just hang out and have some “much needed fun”. Sammy was getting a ride home with a friend so they had the afternoon clear to do whatever they pleased.  
  
Dean watched the cloudy puffs of his breath well up and dissipate into the air while he waited next the Impala. He pulled up his collar and stuffed his hands deeper into the pockets of his old leather jacket. When Cas came out of the school doors, Dean’s eyes were drawn to him like a magnet. His chin was tucked down into his black coat against the cold wind that blew his dark hair in all directions. The deep blue scarf around his neck was an Anna addition, for sure and when Castiel looked up from a few yards away it matched the blue of his eyes.  
  
“Ready to go?” Dean asked with a grin. Cas nodded, slipping into the passenger seat.  
  
Dean pulled up outside a diner downtown.  
  
“What are you guys doing for Thanksgiving?” Dean asked around a mouthful of pie. Castiel was quiet, carefully pushing around crumbs on his plate.  
  
“My parents want us to visit them. Have a ‘real family holiday’ or something like that.”  
  
“That doesn’t sound so bad. I’m sure you...” Dean trailed off when Cas fixed him with a look that said _stop you have no idea what you’re saying_. Dean cleared his throat and shoved some more pie into his mouth.  
  
“It’s a publicity stunt. They was to put on a good face for their congregation.” He sat back and stared out the window of the cafe. “Gabriel told them no, rather emphatically...and colorfully. We’ll probably just stay home, practice.” Dean swallowed, brows furrowed while he thought. Thanksgiving was a time for family, the whole family, and he didn’t like that thought of Cas sitting at home on such a great holiday. Come on, there was all that amazing food, and pie! People always made so much pie for Thanksgiving or so television marketing told him. He couldn’t really remember ever having had a ‘real’ Thanksgiving before, but Sam had been chattering about what it would be like for years now.   
  
“You can’t just sit at home!” Castiel turned to stare at him, confused. “I’ll ask Ellen, you guys can come over and have Thanksgiving with us.”  
  
“Dean,” Castiel started slowly, “though I appreciate the offer, you don’t have to do that. We would be imposing.”  
  
“Nah! It’ll be great! Here, I’ll ask her right now.” He pulled out his cell phone and sent a text to Ellen.  
  
 _Can we add 5 more to thxg dinner?_  
  
The reply came quickly.  
  
 _Who? Miltons? Dean Winchester! Do you think about these things before you ask them?_  
  
Only Ellen could make a text message sounds like a scolding.  
  
 _Pls Aunt Ellen? :) Parents are gone_.  
  
When she didn’t answer right away, Dean shrugged and set his phone on the table, turning back to his pie.  
  
“Dean, you really don’t need to do that. We’ll manage like we always do.”  
  
“No way, man. Thanksgiving is all about like, family and eating and stuff. I can’t let you just sit at home and eat sandwiches!”  
  
“We wouldn’t-” Castiel was cut off when Dean’s phone vibrated against the table. Dean checked it, _Fine_ was all she sent in reply.  
  
“Ellen says it’s cool, you guys can all come over. It’ll be fun.” Cas shook his head, but Dean caught the small smile there.  
  


  
Madness. It was the only word Sam Winchester could come up with to describe the insanity currently surrounding him. He had thought it would be fun when Dean told him that Castiel and the rest of the Milton’s would be coming over for dinner, but he was not prepared. Bobby and Ellen’s small house was already crowded with the five of them, let alone bringing in the very loud, very boisterous Milton kids.  
  
Speaking of, he ducked under Gabriel’s wildly gesticulating arm as it swept through the air and dodged Bobby’s newspaper that he was shaking at the eldest Milton as they argued some inane point or another as he moved from the study to the entryway. Sam was glad though, he knew how much Bobby liked to “educate smart asses” whenever possible. He jumped over the mound of shoes by the front door and slid between Balthazar and Anna as they discussed something in low tones while grinning over at Castiel and Dean who were sitting on the stairs, hip to hip. He rolled his eyes at them and then pushed through the wall of warm air and into the kitchen.  
  
Ellen was at the stove, pouring a mixture of spiced rum and brown sugar into a serving dish of mashed sweet potatoes. He wrinkled his nose at the offending dish (who even likes sweet potatoes). Ellen was in rare form, joking and laughing with Israfael and Jo as they helped wash and dry the dishes created from cooking the feast sprawled over the kitchen and dining room table. He snuck up to swipe a finger through the home-made whipped cream topping Ellen’s to die for pumpkin pie but was interrupted by a sharp throat clearing.   
  
“Samuel Winchester, I know you were not just thinking of touching that pie.”   
  
He snapped to attention at her tone, conditioned to do so after a childhood of being John Winchester’s son. He could see her eyes soften a little at the reaction so he tried his own version of Dean’s ‘Winchester charm’ and laid on the most pathetic puppy eyes he could.   
  
She didn’t buy it.   
  
“Wow,” Israfael snarked, elbow deep in water and suds, “I actually believe all of your and Dean’s stories about how terrifying she is now, little Kansas.”  
“Oh you should!” Piped up Jo, drying a dish with a determined look.  “Momma’s the scariest thing alive.”  
  
Ellen barked out a laugh. “You better believe it little girl.” She shoved the potatoes in the oven after sprinkling a light layer of crushed cereal on top, and then moved towards the dining room but not before lightly hugging her daughter.  
  
“Speaking of Kansas, where is your pathetic brother? I’ve seen almost no hint of him or Cassy since we got here. Not that I’m complaining of course.” Israfael’s smile was mocking but not unkind.   
  
Sam groaned and grabbed a glass from Jo to put in the cupboard.   
  
“Staring at one another. Like normal. First it was the study and now on the stairs.”   
  
“Pft, figures.”  
  
Jo scowled at the saucepan she was wiping with the dishtowel. “I don’t even know why Dean likes that pansy. I bet you he couldn’t tell the difference between a two way or three way catalytic converter!”  
  
Israfael snorted.   
  
“That’s true, but come on. Dean’s not exactly the kind of guy I ever thought Cassy would moon over. He acts dumber than two bags of bricks sometimes.”  
  
Jo sighed wistfully. “But he’s just so _pretty_.”  
  
Sam choked and almost dropped the pan as Jo handed it to him.   
  
Israfael scrubbed at a particularly messy bowl. “They both are, but unfortunately they both have the emotional awareness of toads.”   
  
Jo giggled.   
  
“Besides, little miss Joanna Beth, I think that you are far too much woman for Kansas to handle anyhow.”  
  
Jo considered her words for a minute. “You’re right. I can do better.”   
  
Sam took his leave as Israfael bent over the sink, her body shaking with laughter and Jo’s delighted squeals at her reaction. He followed the same path as Ellen into the dining room, but stopped short at hearing voices.   
  
“I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for that boy.”  
  
“Please, don’t. I really haven’t...”Castiel sounded embarrassed and Sam peeked his head out just enough to see him duck his head in embarrassment.   
  
“Don’t you bullshit me or yourself, Castiel Milton. You’ve done a lot for Dean. He cares about his grades for once, he’s stopped trying to pack up Sam and run away, and I even caught him looking at a college website. He hasn’t even brought up working more hours at the garage, even though his grades have improved considerably. You and that gaggle of yours seem to have grounded him and I was just so-”  
  
Sam ducked back a little when Ellen turned her head in his direction, swallowing around the emotion in her voice. She cleared her throat and continued.   
  
“Anyway, despite my initial reservations that hanging out with you kids, especially that brother of yours, was not the best of ideas, I’m happy to say that you’ve proven me wrong.”  
  
Castiel laughed softly. “Well I’m happy that I could help. Dean’s been really, um, great as well. He’s really,” Sam listened to the pause before Castiel finished lamely with “Great.”  
  
Ellen huffed a laugh and Sam smiled at the sound Castiel made as he was pulled into a patented Ellen Harvelle Hug. “You know that if you or any of your family ever need anything that you can come to me or Bobby, right?”  
  
Sam leaned around the corner again just as Bobby walked in with a pretend thunderous “Hey now. Do I need to know about something here?” He tried to restrain the small giggle that came in response to Castiel’s wide eyed expression, but it escaped so he bounded into the room as innocently as possible right as Dean also entered, wiping wet hands on his pant legs.   
  
“What’d I miss?”   
  
Ellen smiled at him. “Nothing, I was just telling Cas here to go let those terrors know that it’s time to eat.”   
  
“Alright! Food time!” Dean pumped his fist in the air and dragged Castiel away to go gather everyone, babbling about how “You’re totally going to die when you taste her pie man.”  
  
Sam tried to maintain his guise of innocence as he straightened some of the dishes, but knew he was busted when Ellen passed, leaned down, and whispered “Eavesdropping is for spies.” before carrying on to go pull the last remaining dishes from the oven.   
  
Sam just laughed.   
  


  
When they were finally let into the dining room after Ellen insisted they all go wait in the living room, Sam was blown away.   
  
“Oh wow, Aunt Ellen! This is awesome!”   
  
The room was warmly lit, and he was right in calling it a feast. There was a massive turkey in the middle of a table with all of the traditional sides. Cranberry stuff Dean was sure to hate, stuffing, and the largest pile of mashed potatoes that Sam was sure he had ever seen. Gabriel let out a low whistle and Bobby an appreciative grunt as he leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek. Luckily she spared them from saying grace and everyone set in as if they hadn’t eaten in months. Sam sat back, watching the rest of the gathering bicker over portions as Anna and Balthazar nagged Gabriel and Dean to chew with their mouths closed. It was a surreal experience. It all seemed so...   
Normal.   
He felt like he was living in one the tv sitcoms that Dean used to watch in their hotel rooms. Surrounded by his friends and his family he was pretty sure he was dreaming and they were all trapped in a Rockwell painting. He took a sip of his milk as Castiel and Dean started laughing about something that he was sure only they understood.   
He shifted in his seat, an uncomfortable feeling in his chest, that settled in next to his contentment with the situation. Thanksgiving used to mean some microwaveable frozen turkey dinners or some Boston Market when Dad had actually remembered it was a holiday. He had spent his entire childhood up longing for a real, normal, perfect holiday. Now that he had gotten it though, he was filled with a different longing for a night of watching terrible movies with Dean. They were the closest they could be as brothers and Sam had always been so sure nothing would come between them.   
  
He sighed as everyone finished their meal and started to clear the table. He knew it was stupid to be jealous of Castiel and his family. It was a good thing that Dean finally had some real friends, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have his own friends now as well, in addition to Jess. When Ellen kicked him out of the kitchen and put Dean to work instead, he took it gladly and plopped down on the stairs to the back porch. Man, pretending to be in a good mood when he wasn’t was exhausting. He wasn’t sure how long he was out there before the screen door squeaked open and a coat was thrown at his head.   
  
“Hey squirt.”  
  
Sam scowled at the stars peeking through the fall sky before sliding on the coat.   
  
“You know, one of these days I’m going to be taller than you and you’ll be the squirt.”  
  
Dean sat down next to him on the porch and knocked his knee into his brothers.  
  
“In your dreams, Sammy.  
  
They were quiet for a few minutes, the inside of the house quieted down to a dull roar as everyone succumbed to the coma induced by Ellen’s cooking.   
  
“I miss him too, ya know.”   
  
Sam turned his head to look at his brother, and smiled slightly at the pained expression on his face. There had been an abundance of chick flick moments recently and Sam was sure it was killing him to talk about his feelings some more. Dean stared resolutely out into the small yard behind the house. Sam swallowed hard and followed suit,   
  
“Yeah. You know, this was all I wanted before we came here, but I just always imagined he would be here with us.”  
  
Dean wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulled him in for a one armed hug.   
  
“I hear that, but at the same time, can you imagine Dad here? He’d have shot Gabriel and Balth by now. Probably Iz too.”  
  
Sam chuckled.   
  
“You know, I’m surprised Bobby hasn’t yet.”   
  
“I know they are a handful, but I would hope that Mr. Singer wouldn’t shoot my brother. I’m afraid that finding another bass player would be rather problematic.”  
  
Sam and Dean leaned back to look at Castiel framed in the light from the house.   
  
“Dude, just craigslist it.” Dean’s smile was a thousand watts of blinding and Sam rolled his eyes. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot more if they continued being so dumb around one another. Castiel’s smile was a few watt’s dimmer than Dean’s, but Sam tried to not hold it against him. He’d figure out Dean was worth it, or else he really was as stupid as Jo kept trying to tell people. He leaned his head against his brother’s shoulder for a moment. He was still trying to accept that things were changing and not what he may have expected but for the moment, he was hopeful that it was going to be okay.   
  


  
Castiel and his family left not long after, overladen with leftovers as if Ellen expected them to starve. The Harvelle-Singer-Winchester household stood in the entryway, shellshocked. Sam was pretty sure he knew what survivors of tornado’s felt like. The house was in a state of disarray and the silence that followed the boisterous gang’s departure was near deafening. Jo was passed out in Bobby’s arms, blond hair trailing over her pajamas. Sam yawned and Dean echoed.   
  
“Alright!” Ellen clapped her hands together. “Clean up time!”  
  
“Aw, Aunt Ellen.”  
  
She raised her eyebrows at both boy’s whining.   
  
“Blame your brother and that crush of his, Sam Winchester, not me.” She grinned and marched into the kitchen while Bobby moved to carry Jo upstairs to her bedroom. Sam glared at his brother sullenly.   
  
“Yeah jeez, Dean. Thanks.”  
  
Dean laughed and dragged him along behind him.   
  
“Whatever. I’m awesome and you know it.”   
  
Sam grumbled, but followed him anyways.


	7. Chapter 7

“You really think that he’ll like this?”  
  
“Seriously? You’re asking _again_?”  
  
“Shut up, midget.”  
  
Dean ignored his brother’s laughter and continued trying to wrap the scarf he had grabbed on impulse while buying presents for his family. He never should have even bought the thing, but the blue jumped out at him and just seemed to scream ‘CAS’.  He grumbled to himself, fighting the tape and paper. He had just wanted to throw the scarf in a bag or wrap it in some newspaper but Sam and Ellen had glared balefully at him until he agreed to use the stupid shiny paper they picked out. He wasn’t even sure how he was supposed to give it to his friend. Castiel had convinced him that if he was going to be living in a northern state that he had to learn how to ice skate.   
  
To say that he was doubtful was an understatement.   
  
“Oh my god, just give it to me. Are you six?” Sam snagged the present from Dean’s hands and in a few quick moments had it looking like a real present, complete with,   
  
“Oh hell no. The bow goes.”  
  
“Deeeeaaaaan.”  
  
“No! No bows!”   
  
His little brother scowled at him but took the bow off and handed it to Dean.   
  
“You need to get going. You’re going to be late.”  
  
Right. Dean threw on his coat and set out. It took about fifteen minutes to get to the ice rink, and the minute he walked in the door a flurry of little girls in sequined dresses rushed past him. So he was just a little out of his element, he could deal.   
  
“Hey, Dean-o!” He turned to see the Milton kids standing off to the side with Castiel who held up a pair of black hockey skates for him.   
  
“I hope they are the right size. If not we can swap them out.”  
  
Dean stared at him and then at the skates.   
  
“Those don’t look like rental skates. I was told they would be “horribly plastic and with a bastardized blade”. Trust me, Bobby had a good laugh about it.”   
  
Castiel blushed. “The rental skates are truly terrible. I thought it would be smoother for your first time,” The whistles behind him from his family at the unfortunate phrasing deepend Castiel’s blush but he carried on. “Thought it would be easier if you had a decent pair of skates.”  
  
“Cas.”  
  
“They weren’t expensive!”   
  
“Cas.”   
  
The singer flinched at his tone, but relaxed when Dean put his hand on the singers shoulder and grinned.   
  
“Thank you. You really did not have to, but thanks.”  
  


  
A hour and a half later, Dean was tempted to take back his appreciation. His butt hurt from landing on it so much and now he and Castiel were in the restroom while the rest of the Milton’s skated around the rink like the prodigy freaks Dean knew they were. He hissed as Castiel applied some antiseptic to the scrape on his hip due to a rather spectacular fall where his shirt rode up and the ice bit into his skin. It was made even more awkward by the sheer fact that having Castiel bent over him while he sat on the counter was a bit too close for comfort. The singers cheeks were flushed from skating in the cold arena and his fingers warm against Dean’s hip.   
  
“Not the manliest of injuries.” Dean joked, trying to distract himself of how it felt to have Castiel’s breath ghosting over his skin as the other boy finished wiping off the antiseptic.   
  
“I’m sorry. This was a bad idea.”  Castiel straightened to peel the wrapper off of the large bandage pad and Dean breathed a small sigh of relief.   
  
“Nah, it’s actually a lot more fun than I thought it would be. When I’m not sliding around flailing like an idiot or too afraid to move my feet anyways.”   
  
He slid off of the counter, careful not to kick Castiel with his skates, bandaid pulling slightly on his skin.   
  
“How was your Christmas anyways?” Dean asked.   
  
“Mmm. It was okay. Our parents came home and made it some big to-do like always. Really focused on the ‘family bonding time’. Only, my Father can never leave his work alone so several of his employees were our guests which made everything just a little awkward.”  
  
Dean flinched. “I can imagine.”  
  
Castiel huffed a little. “They kept acting like they actually cared about us, even asked about the band and school. It set everyone on edge a little until Gabe exploded Christmas Eve. He took off. It took about two hours to find him and then drag him back. ‘Disaster’ is putting it lightly I think. But that’s a pretty typical Milton Family Christmas.”  
  
Dean thought back to his quiet but warm Christmas morning and felt guilty. “You know that Ellen would have gladly let you guys come over.”  
  
Castiel smiled. “We weren’t going to impose again, Dean. It was alright.”His eyes brightened for a moment. “I, uh, do have a present for you though.”   
Dean narrowed his eyes at him.   
  
“I’m pretty sure that the skates were more than enough.”   
  
“No no. An actual gift.”   
  
“Oh well, I guess that makes two of us then.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.   
  
“Come on. I want to give it to you while everyone else is still skating. They were unbearable enough as is.”   
  
Dean followed his friend out into the locker room where they both shucked their skates and carried them out to the cars. Dean ducked into the Impala briefly to grab his gift before moving to meet back up with Castiel at Gabriel’s Camaro. He handed the small package to Castiel quickly and smiled as Castiel did the same. He’s pretty sure Sam would roll his eyes right out of his head if he could see them. Dean tore into his package to distract himself from Castiel opening the one in his hands. He pulled back the last few pieces of paper to reveal a tube. He pulled it open and unrolled it gently.   
  
“Holy shit.”  
  
Castiel paused in pulling the paper gingerly from the present to look at Dean.   
  
“I told you it wasn’t much but I thought it was something you might like and it was just an impulse and-”  
  
“Cas shut up. This is amazing. This is a freaking Zeppelin poster. Do you know whose signatures are on this?”   
  
Castiel smirked. “As much as you seem to like to forget, I do listen to music you know.”   
  
Dean grinned in response and pulled Castiel into a quick hug, laughing, making sure to hold the poster off the side. Then, carefully rolling it back up and sliding it in the tube.   
  
“Man my present doesn’t even compare.”   
  
Castiel waved a hand at him in dismissal and went back to unwrapping. He pulled the scarf from its package and stared at it. Dean’s heart skipped a little.   
  
“Um, like I said, it doesn’t really compare. I just thought that maybe you would like it and-”  
  
“This is beautiful.”  
  
Dean stopped but Castiel continued.   
  
“No really, Dean. This means a lot to me.” He smiled up at him and doing some quick maneuvering with his fingers, managed to loop it around his neck and tuck it under his pea coat in a few short seconds and Dean knew he was in trouble because it just made him look even better.   
  
Yep. He was screwed.   
  


  
The next morning broke with an energetic ball of Sam Winchester bouncing on his bed.   
  
“DEAN. DEAN WAKE UP.”  
  
He groaned and knew from the stiffness he could feel that ice skating was going to haunt him for days. He tried to bury his face under his pillow but that just egged Sam on more.   
  
“Come on, Dean! School starts tomorrow. You know what that means?” He could feel the smaller boy tugging on the end of his blankets, trying to dislodge them from where they had wrapped around his body in the middle of the night.  
  
Dean opened one eye and stared at his little brother for a moment before his brain kicked in and he sat up.   
  
“Right. Your arm.”  
  
“MY ARM!” Sam crowed, throwing both arms over his head in victory before running out of Dean’s room and into his own, presumably, to get dressed. Dean shook his head. The kid was too much to handle some days.   
  
“Are you ready to be a free man, Sammy?” He asked as soon as they slid into the car. It was a Monday, so the doctor’s offices were closed but he didn’t have to worry about school until the next day.   
  
“Hells yeah!” His brother’s voice squeaked with excitement. On the way to the hospital, Dean managed to lose the tension that he had subconsciously been holding since Sam broke his arm in the first place. Listening to his chatter about how awesome it was going to be to have both arms again and ‘Oh God Dean do you think this arm is going to be super pale’ ? made him feel like maybe moving to North Dakota was the right move in the end.   
  
At the doctor’s office, Aunt Ellen and Bobby were waiting for him, having taken the day off from work and Dean felt like he was finally able to suck in the first deep breath he had in months. A knot loosened in his chest and when Sam’s skinny, definitely more pale, arm was exposed. he cheered along side him.   
  
Yeah, Dean thought, maybe this was a good start to the year.   
  


It was a terrible start to the new year. The first week of classes went pretty well, or so Castiel was inclined to think. He had pretty much all of the same classes for the second semester, with music still consuming most of his time. He was working on trying to stay focused and upbeat. If you asked his family, however, they made it sound as if he was some monster, bent on destroying their ears with morose music.   
Whatever. Just because it was French didn’t mean it was terrible.   
  
Truth be told, he knew his attempt to appear okay wasn’t working. He felt all over the map emotionally as well as creatively. Christmas had been trying with his parents involvement and the constant small battles between them and his siblings. It had just been more questioning about their choices in the guise of caring. The whole event had just come off as cold and unfeeling and after Thanksgiving, it just seemed all the more painful and had left Castiel and probably the others as well feeling just a bit more raw than before. Going skating and spending the day with Dean had been a nice break from the atmosphere in his home, but in the long run just left him feeling frustrated and wanting something that wasn’t his to take. And then there was Crowley.   
  
Castiel sighed.   
  
He had been more than surprised when a package arrived, addressed to him, over the winter break. He was lucky that he answered the door and was able to carry the package to his room without any of his siblings seeing him. Inside the box was a short note from Crowley and sheafs of expensive score paper in addition to a, frankly beautiful, set of guitar straps and several boxes of premium guitar strings. To say that it caught him off guard was stating it lightly. He hadn’t even expected a call from his boyfriend for the holiday, let alone a gift.   
  
What was even more bewildering was receiving a text the next day to meet up at Crowley’s. Castiel wrapped up his presents (a decorative but practical pocket watch and a bottle of Crowley’s favourite scotch) and prepared himself for a stiff meeting much like their interaction in the teahouse, but again, it was the opposite of what Castiel had planned for.   
  
The day was just short of perfect. They had gone for a walk in the snow behind the house, and Castiel made them both hot chocolate when they returned. They actually had conversations about music and the band and their families. When they ended up in Crowley’s room in front of the overly grandiose fireplace, it had been gentle touches, whispered endearments, and everything that had been missing from their relationship for several months. It had been easy to spend the time with Crowley in such a mood. He joked, laughed, and the distance between them seemed like a bad dream, even if Castiel kept catching glimpses of green eyes where there should have been brown.   
  
He felt more hopelessly confused than ever.   
  
They had been back in school for a week and Castiel was starting to think that the whole day had been a figment of his imagination. No more sweet texts or calls, and only a few heated make out sessions between classes, which left Castiel feeling more used than loved. He tapped the end of his pencil against his desk, watching the minutes tick down before he could escape Chemistry and school for a few days.   
  
He chewed on his bottom lip in frustration. Crowley had skipped classes again and the only response he had gotten in return was a text that simply said “sick”. He bounced his leg, restlessly. Crowley was absent often, but everything just seemed amplified by his current emotional state. He wasn’t sure he believed that Crowley was sick, but his guilt over instantly not believing him was enough to push him to give Crowley the benefit of the doubt.   
  
As the last bell rang, he had made up his mind to stop by his boyfriend’s house anyways. The January air was brisk and cold on his face as he wrapped himself up tighter in his coat and the blue scarf from Dean. He sent a quick text to Anna to let her know he didn’t need a ride home and set out for Crowley’s. It wasn’t too long of a walk, and the chilled air helped him to clear his mind.   
  
He stopped at a small cafe down the street from the school to grab some soup to go and bread. He felt ridiculous planning to play nurse, but he was hoping that maybe free of the school environment Crowley would be in the same mind set that he was over break. Besides, he smiled, he had never seen Crowley as anything other than put together so a sick Crowley had to be an interesting a sight.   
  
A few minutes later he stomped up the front steps to the door, carefully shaking off any snow from the bottom of his shoes. A quick glance to the driveway proved that no car had left the house since the previous night’s snowfall. Huh. Maybe he really was sick.   
  
Relying on his familiarity with the house, he let himself in the front door and was debating taking off his shoes when a shock of peacock blue caught his eye. He moved forward into the sitting room to see a feminine wool coat draped over the back of a chair, and upon turning around to check there was a pair of fashionable winter boots by the front door. One painful thump in his chest later, he forgot about taking off his shoes and walked through the living room and into the kitchen.   
  
“Fergus?”  
  
When he was met with silence, he went to move from the kitchen back into the living room but he heard a soft mumbling from Crowley’s father’s study just off the kitchen. He tightened his grip on the bag in his hand, and pushed down on the door’s handle, opening it.   
  
Inside he was greeted with the sight of a girl sprawled over the top of the desk, curly brown hair cascading over the edge. Crowley was bent over her, trailing a line of kisses down her torso, her shirt pooled at his feet on the floor.   
  
Castiel stood, frozen. Any voice he might have had stuck in his throat and he could feel the handle of the bag digging into the meat of his clenched fist.   
  
“Castiel?” The girl sat up, bracing her weight on her elbows and it took a few moments to realize that it was Madison, a classmate of his. She was blushing.   
  
Crowley tensed but before he could turn around, the singer took several steps backwards out of the room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”  
  
He whipped around, almost running through the front of the house. He should have known. It stung how little, out of everything recently, this surprised him. He shoved his way through the front door and into the bitter air, breath visible from his short, angry, puffs. He made it down the stairs before he heard the door open behind him.   
  
“Castiel.”  
  
He didn’t turn around but continued walking. A hand wrapped around his wrist in an iron like vise and spun him around. Crowley looked impeccable, his mouth slightly swollen. Asshole.   
  
“Angel.”  
  
“Don’t you ‘Angel’ me. It’s a little late for that.”   
  
Crowley’s eyes filled with remorse and his grip softened. _Don’t buy it_.  
  
“Angel, it’s not what-”  
  
“What? Not like what? What it looked like?” Castiel laughed. “I’m pretty sure it looked like exactly what it was!”  
  
He tried to jerk his arm out of Crowley’s grip but his boyfriend’s fingers tightened to a painful level. “Don’t be melodramatic. We never said we were exclusive, yeah?”  
  
At Castiel’s angry silence, Crowley brought his other hand up and gripped the singer’s arms. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you looking at that hick and I know you want to fuck him.”   
  
Castiel reared back as if slapped and struggled against Crowley’s grip until the other boy was forced to let him go. “The difference is that I would never fuck Dean while I was still with you!” He threw the bag of soup and bread on the ground.  “Here, I hope you feel better soon. I hear a good lay makes a person get over a cold faster.”   
  
He turned his back on Crowley and stormed away, grateful but also disappointed when Crowley didn’t bother to follow. After a few blocks he was able to stop and compose himself. It was getting dark and his cheeks were frozen from the wind cooling the tears on his cheeks. He pulled his phone out and dialed without thinking.   
  
“Hello, Dean.”  
  


  
**Fergus** : We aren’t done.   
**Castiel** : We are.   
**Fergus:** You are being ridiculous. She doesn’t mean anything.   
**Castiel:** Goodbye Fergus.   
**Fergus:** Meg called. She wants your band to record tracks for an album.   
**Castiel:** You can’t keep holding that over my head!   
**Fergus:** You’re not stupid, Angel. You know what your family wants.   
**Castiel:** No. I won’t do this.   
**Fergus:** Enjoy your basement. I’m sure Gabriel would love to find out about us and what we’ve done.   
**Castiel:** Why do you even care.   
**Fergus:** Come on Angel. I love you.   
  
Disgusted with himself, Castiel rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, shoving his phone underneath and feeling like he was trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t escape.


	8. Chapter 8

"Hey, you okay today?” Castiel looked up from his Statistics textbook to find Dean watching him, face masked with concern. He turned back to his homework, avoiding the other boy’s gaze.  
  
“Yes. I’m fine.” He wasn’t, but he didn’t want Dean to worry about it. The whole Crowley debacle had him distracted and frazzled, he was ready to be done with it. He held out hope that they could get this record deal and he could get away from Crowley’s influence entirely. He heard Dean hum and shove away his textbook.  
  
“Well, I for one could use a break. I’m gonna go nuts sitting here.”  
  
“I suppose a break wouldn’t hurt. Fifteen minutes should suffice.” Dean let out an utterly pathetic, childish groan. Castiel hid his smile with the table, bending down to stuff it back into his bag. “Thirty minutes, then.” He said, sitting back up, face completely neutral.  
  
“Couldn’t we just take the afternoon off? I think I deserve something for getting a B on my last test.”  
  
“It was a B minus. I hardly think that is cause for celebration.”  
  
“Hey, for a guy who usually gets D’s and F’s, I would say a B minus is pretty damn good.” He scooped his keys up off the table. “Come on, one afternoon won’t hurt anybody. Besides, it’s nice out today.” Castiel had to give him that, it was a beautiful spring day, a bit warmer than was usual for that time of year. He shrugged, why not? He’d much rather be outside anyways.  
  
“What did you have in mind?” Dean grinned at him. It was that slow, easy, infectious grin that Castiel had grown fond of and he couldn’t help but smile back.  
  
They ended up in the Impala, driving around with the windows down and classic rock blasting out of the stereo. Dean was drummin on the steering wheel with vigor, pounding out the beat with the palms of his hands. Castiel bobbed his head along with the music, it wasn’t something that he would have normally picked himself, but since becoming friends with Dean he had come to enjoy this genre of music. Dean was right, it was great ‘cruising music’, as he called it. They stopped at a diner, where Dean ran in and picked up some burgers to-go before they were off again.  
  
“Where are we going?”  
  
“I know a place.” Castiel let it go at that, leaning his head back against the headrest and watching the landscape zip past, enjoying the smell of the burgers wafting out the windows. A small, contented smile played at the corners of his mouth. This was something that he could do everyday. He unconsciously picked at the threads along one of the holes in his jeans. It was strange how, in just a few short months, he had come to depend on Dean so much. He always been a loner, preferring his music and his family to making friends and being social. Being with Dean was simple, comfortable.  
  
He glanced over the where Dean’s free hand was resting on the seat, fingers tapping a rhythm on the leather. His own fingers twitched, what if he held his hand? What would happen? Would Dean react? Would it ruin everything or would it open a new and exciting door? Could he even do it? He thought about that, no...what if Dean didn’t react well and it messed up their entire relationship? He couldn’t do it. The thought was so tantalizing though. He tried to push it from his mind; instead he enjoyed the wind blowing through the car, Dean’s singing as he belted out the chorus to a song, and the fresh smell of spring in the air. He smiled to himself and felt the tension drain from his shoulders. Dean looked over at him, grinning like a fool.  
  
The song ended and in the quiet between Dean said, “See, isn’t this better than studying?” Castiel nodded as the music started again. The car slowed as Dean turned into the entrance to a state park and killed the engine. “Sammy and I used to come here, before we were banned from lunch. Come on.” He slid out of the car, grabbing the food. Castiel pulled his guitar out of the back seat, Dean had insisted that he bring it, and followed Dean’s retreating back down one of the trails. They didn’t stop until they came to a stream trickling between two grassy banks. Dean plopped himself down on the grass with a contented sigh and opened the bag of food. Castiel sat down next to him, the spot was beautiful. He looked up at the sun glowing through the leaves; the breeze in the trees combined with the trickling stream created a natural symphony. Dean waved one of the wrapped burgers in front of Castiel. He took it and they ate in comfortable, mutual silence.  
  
“Would you play something?” Dean asked after they had finished the food and he packed away the empty wrappers.  
  
“Such as?” Castiel asked, unlatching his guitar case. He’d been learning a few songs that he knew Dean liked - Zeppelin and a couple of Rush pieces. He watched the side of Dean’s face while he, rather pointedly, avoided looking back.  
  
“Whatever you feel like, I guess.” Castiel shrugged, pulling out his guitar and cradling it in his lap. He strummed a few chords, letting his mind wander, eyes locked on Dean’s face, though he didn’t actually realize he was doing it.  
  
 _Then I heard your heart beating,_  
 _you were in the darkness too._  
 _So I stayed in the darkness with you._  
  
As Castiel sang, with the warm sun shining down on his shoulders and the water rushing past them, a peaceful sense of calm fell over him. He watched Dean, listening quietly with his eyes closed. The sun gilded is hair and skin, bringing out the freckles on his face and reminding Castiel of an untouchable deity. Dean’s eyes cracked open, just a sliver of brilliant green under his lashes, and smiled; Castiel flushed and looked away watching a bee hovering over a few of the first daffodils of spring.  
  
Movement caused him to turn back, Dean’s face was inches away from his when their eyes met, green on blue. His breath caught in his throat and Dean chose that moment to close the distance between them, his mouth closing over Castiel’s. Dean’s lips were warm and soft on his and Castiel found himself moving closer, his guitar hindering his movement as it was pressed between them. Dean grunted and slid the guitar out from between them, setting it in the case next to them without breaking lip contact. As soon as the blockade was gone Castiel pushed Dean over backward into the grass, deepening the kiss.  
  
He felt Dean hum with pleasure before nipping at his lower lip, following the bite with his tongue. When Castiel’s parted his lips Dean took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. He cupped Dean’s cheek in his hand while the other boys fingers tangled up in his dark hair. They broke apart briefly to catch their breath and Castiel stared down at the other boy through heavily lidded eyes. His heart was pounding in his chest and his face felt warm and flushed. This was Dean. He was _finally_ kissing Dean and it was even better than he’d imagined. A frown tugged down the sides of his mouth, he shouldn’t be doing this. He sat back on his heels, pulling away from Dean who sat up confusion and panic creasing his forehead.  
  
“Cas?”  
  
He stared down at his hands in his lap, he’d crossed a line, he shouldn’t have gone as far as he did. “I’m sorry, Dean. I-”  
  
“Nonono, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done that!” He dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t know what I was thinking. You just looked...” Castiel squeezed his eyes shut while he warred with himself, Dean was still stammering something and it took all the willpower that Castiel had not to pounce on him again just to quiet him. He couldn’t do that though, everything was confusing enough without adding this to the mix. If Crowley ever found out...icey fear ripped through his insides. He had never witnessed it, but he was aware that Crowley was capable of some truly terrible things.  
  
But with Dean...Castiel briefly touched his fingers to his lips, they still felt warm. It wasn’t the first time he’d been kissed, obviously, but nothing had left him feeling like this, all light-headed and out-of-sorts. Everything felt different with Dean. There was no pressure, no expectations, being around Dean was natural. _Stop being stupid, Castiel!_ He thought to himself, _this is Dean. Dean! The guy that you’ve been thinking about doing_ exactly this _with for months now_.  
  
But there was still Crowley and his blackmail to contend with.  
  
“Cas? Cas, say something?” The panic in Dean’s voice pulled Castiel out of his reverie. Dean’s eyes were wide, too wide, and the little creased formed between his eyebrows. The one that showed up when he was confused or worried. _He’s terrified_ , Castiel thought, blinking slowly while his brain worked to catch up again, _why is he terrified_?  
  
“Dean...” Dean continued to watch him, unblinking, as Castiel slowly reached out and smoothed his finger over the crease with a feather-light touch. He traced his fingers along the side of Dean’s face down to his jaw. They were still close “I’m sorry...I can’t...” His throat went tight and he could feel tears prickling at the backs of his eyes. He could do this, he could push all his feelings aside, if only to protect Dean from Crowley. He let his hand drop to his side and his throat clicked when he swallowed past the lump there.  
  
“I would like to go home now.” When Dean’s face shut down he wanted to cry out, to cup his face between his calloused fingers and coax that warmth and light back into it. It was like watching a door slam behind those green eyes. They turned cold and distant and all he managed was a stilted nodded before he was up, snatching the bag of trash off the ground, and stalking back towards the car.  
  
Castiel scrambled to gather his guitar and follow after Dean. His legs felt heavy and dragging, like each step was taking him closer to the gallows and imminent demise. _What have I done?_ It was an asinine question, he’s done exactly what Dean had been afraid of. He’d rejected him, shut him down, he just had to keep telling himself that it was for the best. It would keep Dean safe and everyone else could be happy. Yes, it was best. _If it is for the best why do I feel so terrible about it?_  
  
The ride home was painfully awkward and Castiel winced at the steady thrum of guilt that he felt over the hurt he’d seen on Dean’s face. It replayed in his mind, over and over, a terrible reminder of the damage he had done. Dean pulled the Impala into the driveway and cut the engine abruptly. In the sudden silence he could hear the click of the engine as it cooled down and the bird song in the trees around the house.  
  
“Thank you for-”  
  
“Save it.” Castiel’s mouth shut with a snap. Dean stared resolutely out the windshield. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” The sinking feeling that had been growing in his stomach for the entire drive dropped like a stone.  
  
“See you tomorrow, Dean.” He mumbled, shutting the car door behind him and walking up the front path. The engine roared to life behind him and Dean tore out of the driveway like a bat outta hell.  
  


  
After an awkward and nosey dinner with his family (Where were you all afternoon? Were you out with Dean-o? Should we be worried? Do we need to have The Talk, Castiel? etc.) he made his way up to his bedroom. He flopped, belly first, onto his bed while his hands unconsciously fiddled with his phone, turning it around and around. He wanted to call Dean and apologize again, explain himself, anything to make this better. He started writing a text message without thought or direction and then deleted it without sending. All he could think was _what have I done?_  
  
Dean, who had been nothing but wonderful, helpful albeit gruff, but that was all part of what made him who he was. Someone that Castiel had come to respect and care about as much as one of his family members. He would never dream of doing something to hurt one of his family and here he had gone and done just that to Dean. The air was stuffy and dust scented when he pressed his face into his blanket. Dean had kissed him and he had theoretically given him the boot and slammed the door in his face.  
  
From his bedside table he pulled the three notes he had found over the past several months and reread them. They were all different handwritings with different content.  
  
 _We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be._  
  
 _All this feels strange and untrue and I won’t waste a minute without you._  
  
 _And it follows that I am, because you are:_  
 _It follows from ‘you are’, that I am, an we:_  
 _And, because of love, you will, I will,_  
 _We will, come to be._  
  
The first was from Kurt Vonnegut and Castiel had seen several of his works in Dean’s bedroom, but then came the song lyric. It was not Dean’s average fare and definitely not from Crowley. He was completely thrown by the Neruda. That seemed more like Crowley, but Castiel could not reconcile the image of Crowley stuffing notes into his locker. A small voice in his head hoped strongly for Dean, but he tried not to give in to it. With a sigh he flipped over onto his back and closed his eyes. He couldn’t leave it like this with Dean. He had to fix it; the thought of being hated by him was unacceptable.  
  
But the only way he could see to do that would be to end things with Crowley. Which in turn ended their chances with Meg, effectively hurting his family, just as Crowley had said. How was he supposed to make a decision like this? As if on cue there was a soft knock on his door followed by “Castiel?” He pushed himself up onto his elbows as the door opened and Anna’s vibrant head swung into the room.  
  
“Hey, do you have time to talk?” At his nod she pushed into the room, shutting the door behind her. “You seemed really quiet and distracted at dinner tonight. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” She sat down on the edge of the bed next to Castiel’s feet. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah.” Even he didn’t think it sounded convincing and, sure enough, Anna was giving him the _are you really going to try and lie to your big sister_ look. Castiel dropped back onto the bed with a sigh.  
  
“You can’t tell the others.” Anna mimed locking her mouth and throwing away the key. Out of everyone in his family, Castiel was most comfortable talking to Anna; that was a maternal roll she filled well. And he knew she wouldn’t tell anyone. “Dean…he, well, I mean I…” this was harder than he had thought, “we…kissed.” He stared up at the ceiling, he wasn’t sure what reaction he had been expecting from her, but it wasn’t the one he got.  
  
“Cassy, that’s great!” She was beaming at him, “he’s nice, a little uncouth at times, but not a bad guy.” We he failed to share in her enthusiasm, her smile faltered. “Ah, but now you’re left with a decision. Want to talk about it?”  
  
“I really can’t, sorry.” Her mouth pulled into a frown but she nodded slowly. Her eyes roamed around the room before settling on the notes spread across Castiel’s bed.  
  
“What are these?” She snatched one up before Castiel could protest.  
  
“Nothing, just some quotes.” She read it anyways, her mouth quirking into an odd little grin.  
  
“Let me see the others.” She held out her hand and when Castiel did not hand them over she bounced it impatiently. “Come on.” He passed them over hesitantly, he didn’t really want to share them, the notes were his happy little secret. Anna chuckled as she handed them all back after reading them. “Good choices.” Castiel frowned, his forehead crinkling up in confusion.  
  
“What do you mean ‘good choices’? What do you know about these?”  
  
Anna smirked at him, that annoying, all-knowing older sister look she had plastered on her face. “What do _you_ know about them, Castiel?”  
  
His eyes skirted away from hers and fell back to the notes in his hands. “Nothing.” When he looked back up one red brow was quirked questioningly. “Honest, they were in my locker. I know what they are from, but not who left them.” She grinned at him again; he never thought a look could be so annoyingly infuriating. She knew something that she wasn’t telling him.  
  
“Okay, let me tell you this, maybe it will help.” She fidgeted for a moment, as if trying to pick out the right words. “You’ve been…moody for the past few months.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes but Anna continued on. “But when I see you around Dean that changes. I think he’s good for you.” She patted his shin as she stood, “Do what makes you happy. If you do decide you want to talk, I’ll be here.” She smiled again before leaving.  
  
“Anna! What are you not telling me?” He called after her but her only response was to shut the door firmly behind her. He picked up his phone and stared at the little screen as though it would have all the answers to life, the universe, and everything. All it decided to show him was the abstract background he had chosen. _Do what makes you happy_. That was easier said than done, his fingers flicked, unsure, through his contact list. He had to fix this; had to do what was right. _I think he’s good for you_. Do what _he_ wanted for once.  
  
He sucked in a steadying breath and pressed ‘call’.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is where we need to start adding warnings to chapters. This chapter features off-screen noncon, and physical abuse in addition to harsh language. From here on out, these events will be talked about and the harsh language about them will also continue.

When Dean stumbled into his first class (who in the hell thought that Calculus was a good idea so damn early in the morning?!) he was bleary eyed and grumpy. His night had been filled with replays of the kiss/rejection interrupted with nightmare filled bouts of sleep, tossing and turning all night in his bed. He felt like a moron for kissing his best friend. What the _fuck_ had he been thinking? That, of course, was the problem. He hadn’t been thinking, or if he had been he’d been using the wrong brain.  
  
He rested his head on his folded arms and tried to doze. It was early enough that the classroom was still empty; with no sleep and nothing better to do, he’d brought Sam to school early hoping that maybe it would offer enough of a distraction to keep his mind busy. The quiet of the classroom and his sleep deprived brain caused his thoughts to wander right back into dangerous territory, and Castiel’s face drifted to the forefront of his mind. Thinking about the singer just made him re-live the disaster that was the day before. He was halfway through remembering his brief but utter bliss at Castiel kissing him back when someone yanked his head up roughly by his hair.  
  
“The fuck?!” Crowley sneered down at him, his hand still fisted in Dean’s hair, tilting his head back at a painful angle. His eyes were bright with anger and rage. A quick glance confirmed that the classroom was still empty.  
  
“Do you enjoy stealing other people’s toy, Winchester?” Dean narrowed his eyes and shoved the other boy’s arm away, leaning back in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared Crowley down.  
  
“I’m not sure what you’re bitching about, Crowley. Not sure I’ve seen any _toys_ around.” What was he talking about and why in the hell was he taking it out on Dean? Sure he’d kissed Cas, but Cas had turned him down. How did he even find out about it? Crowley’s accent snapped out, thickened by anger, and pulled Dean back into the moment.  
  
“Did you think you could take what didn’t belong to you?” He leaned aggressively into Dean’s personal space. “How did you do it?” Did you get on your knees and wrap that whore mouth of your around his cock and suck his brains out? He is _mine_ , not yours.”  
  
“Cas isn’t your fucking property you dick!” Dean snarled at him, rising from his desk. His shoulders were tense and his hands had closed into fists so tight he felt his knuckles pop. “I don’t know why he stays with a piece of shit like you!”  
  
“Be careful, _Winchester_.” Crowley didn’t back down, standing toe to toe. “You come near him again and I will hunt you down. Or maybe help your brother out with that arm of his, yeah?”  
  
“Fucking try it, you piece of shit, and I will rip your lungs out.”  
  
“Boys?” Mr. Mauro said from the doorway, “Do we have a problem?” Crowley glared at Dean one last time before turning his back and stalking to the front of the room to take his seat. A few other classmates filtered into the room. Dean unclenched his fists; his nails had left deep, red crescents in the pads of his palms.  
  
Dean glared daggers into the back of Crowley’s head for the rest of class and when the bell rang he was the first one out of the room. He made a beeline for Castiel’s first class, hoping to catch him in the halls and see if he knew what the hell Crowley had been going on about. The other boy probably didn’t want to see him, but if he was going to be threated, Dean wanted to know why.  
  
Castiel wasn’t there, and he hadn’t been in class or so Becky told him when he asked about it in Pop Culture later. Worry set in at the back of his mind but it didn’t kick into panic until he walked into his Lit class and found Israfael Milton perched upon his desk, fingers tapping out a beat on the fake wood.  
  
“Kansas.” She said by way of greeting.  
  
“Milton.” When she didn’t move Dean sighed and sat down at his desk anyway. Pointedly trying to ignore her, he began pulling out his notebook and other crap for class. She ignored him as well for a few minutes, watching the other students mill about. Dean assumed she was waiting for Gabriel and just trying to be annoying. He got along pretty well with Anna and Balthazar, but Gabriel and Israfael were still a mystery to him. He was pretty sure they liked him, but depending upon the day and moods they either made his life hell or just slightly less hell. He was hoping to day would be a ‘less-than-hell’ day. He wasn’t holding his breath though, especially after their foray into kidnapping and knowing his luck. She sighed after a while, turning to stare at him, light blue eyes like her brother’s evaluating him.  
  
“He’s singing in French now.”  
  
Dean blinked, “Uh, okay?”  
  
Her lips pulled back in disgust. “You’ve got to make it stop. I can’t take much more of this. I thought Phantom of the Opera and all hours of the day was bad.”  
  
“Shouldn’t you, I dunno, support him instead of whining about it?”  
  
 _“You don’t understand, Dean.”_ She hissed, pitching her voice low so it didn’t carry through the room. She was tugging at her braid and her accent was slipping through from frustration. “He’s making us play along. Do you have any idea what being the drummer for Cassy’s French shit is like? It’s all sad and morose, and God save us, ironic, and I simply, Can. Not. Take. Anymore.”  
  
“I don’t know what you guys expect me to do about it. I can’t just snap my fingers and make him get over his mental case of a relationship.”  
  
Her eyes flashed dangerously as she leaned over to grip his shoulders and shook him. “I don’t care what you think you can or can’t do! Seduce him or something! Cassy is at his best when he’s either feeling the puppy love or fucking horny. _Fix this_.”  
  
“I tried! He didn’t-“ He cut himself off. The last thing he wanted was Israfael or any of the others to find out he’d kissed Castiel and been shot down. They already put too much pressure on him. He couldn’t save the whole world.  
  
“Ugh, nut up, Winchester. Quit being such a little bitch about it.” With that she shook him one last time and hopped off his desk. It was then that Dean realized she didn’t have any of her regular school stuff. She walked past Mrs. Wilson on her way to the door where Balthazar and Gabriel were waiting, lounging against the wall. The three of them left, with Gabriel tossing him a smirk before disappearing. That probably wasn’t a good thing. He let his head drop onto the surface of his desk with a loud thud. Fuck his life.  
  


  
Crowley’s fists made satisfying crunching noises as they struck Brady in the face. His foot forced a groan from the lackey that sent a thrill up and down his spine. Straightening his suit coat he nodded to Alistair, a sophomore with promise to be his second in command, to drag Brady’s quivering body out of his sight. He carefully wiped the blood and spit off his hands with a linen napkin from the table as he looked down at his plate. Now dinner appealed to him about as much as a plate of worms.  
  
He paced around the room, the heels of his Italian leather shoes thudding on the hardwood floor. His rage roared beneath his skin. How could that little _slut_ think he could just call it off? Thought he could do better, ha! How dare he think it was permissible to leave! Castiel was _his_ property. _His_ toy to use as he saw fit and discard when it suited him. Everything was working out just fine, until that fucking pretty boy Winchester had shown up.  
  
Glass shattered as the mirror along one wall cracked under the force of his fist. He breathed heavily for a few moments staring at his fractured reflection. Blood dripped from his knuckles in time with the pulse pounding in his ears. This would not do. He straightened and began wrapping his hand in the napkin. Pretty little Castiel…he would have to be taught to whom his life and body really belonged to. They had a deal and he would take pleasure in making Castiel regret breaking it.  
  
He smiled, his calm returning with a plan. No one broke a deal with a Crowley, his father had taught him that. Boyfriend or not, if he couldn’t have him, he would make sure that no one would even want to touch Castiel again.  
  
His deranged laughter echoed through the empty house. How much would it take to break his little angel’s wings?  
  


  
The last note proved him right. Dean was the note-writing culprit. Castiel smiled to himself and despite being another Vonnegut quote, the quick scribbled filled him with warmth.  
  
 _There is only one rule that I know of, babies – God damnit, you’ve got to be kind._  
  
The last week had been uncomfortable with Dean dodging him every chance he got, but it was beyond that with his now ex-boyfriend. Crowley would swing wildly from slamming him into lockers in the hallway and snapping at him to being sweet and trying gift him with a new cellphone to replace the one that he had crushed earlier in the week.  
  
After three days of dealing with the crazy drama of his school life, he had claimed a ‘mental health day’ and stayed home from school. Anna brought home all of his schoolwork and he had found the note tucked into his French book. Anna had mostly likely found it and stuck it there. He was glad that he had not asked one of The Trio to get his books for him. This note was different from the others, written on a piece of notebook paper, with the shredded binding still attached.  
  
He had had his hopes about the notes, staring at them for over an hour after his phone call to Crowley, who, when asked, hadn’t a clue what Castiel was talking about and just continued to rail into the phone. He took inventory, two quotes, a poem, a song lyric, and now the knowledge that Dean cared about him more than he thought.  
  
He wanted to kiss the messy handwriting. Every one had been different, disguised, but this. This was the awful chicken scratch he had slaved over, trying to edit it for weeks. He was it in his literary nightmares. The engineering equations on the back just added to his stupid wave of glee.  
  
Oh, Dean.  
  
Castiel made the right decision. He was sure of it now. Terrified of how things would play out, but sure. Castiel shook his head pulling on a well-worn pair of jeans and an old t-shirt, his ‘weekend clothes’ as Anna called them. Crowley wanted to meet at his house to apologize for not taking Castiel seriously about the problems in their relationship. Not that it mattered; he’d made his choice. A part of him still cared about Crowley, no matter how angry he had been, but he hoped that he could come to love Dean even more, now that he’d had a taste of what it could be. He knew he owed Crowley a full explanation of his decision at least and if it would give the other boy closure then so be it.  
  
He passed by the living room on his way out of the house, the rest of his family sprawled around watching TV or reading. “I’m going out, I’ll be back later.”  
  
“’K.” Gabe called back, “Bring some snacks back with you.” Castiel rolled his eyes. He pulled out his phone as he walked to text Crowley.  
  
 **Castiel:** Leaving now.  
 **Fergus** : Come through the front door  
 **Castiel** : All right.  
  
It was a nice day out and the walk only took him twenty minutes, Crowley’s father’s house rivaled the Milton’s in size, but it was much colder. The house was a massive, Baroque affair, but it felt horribly empty housing just one man, his son, and a few hired help. How lonely. He let himself in the front, moving through the foyer and into the sitting room at the front of the house.  
  
“Crowley?” His voice echoed into the silence of the house. He moved further in until he heard movement from the kitchen, the clink of glass. That made sense, Crowley’s father’s study was behind the kitchen and he knew Crowley often spent his time in there. He found the other boy leaning against the counter, a glass of amber liquid swirling around in his hand. The frown on Crowley’s face made Castiel’s stomach twist but he fought past it.  “Isn’t it a bit early for that?”  
  
Crowley’s mouth transformed into a placating smile, “I’m sorry, love.” He moved to stand in front of Castiel and pulled him into an embrace. “I’ve missed you, this just helps.” Castiel stiffened and pulled away, surprising both of them. Just a few weeks ago he would have melted into Crowley’s arms.  
  
“Fergus, I came here to explain to you why I decided to move on, not to do anything like that.” Crowley’s smile slipped from his face and his hands tightened painfully around Castiel’s upper arms.  
  
“Now, now, aren’t we over this little rebellion of your yet?” Crowley sneered. “You know you belong with me, angel. I love you.” He leaned in to kiss Castiel, but Castiel pushed back, his hands shoving against Crowley’s chest.  
  
“Stop this! You said you just wanted to talk! We’re done and I can’t-“  
  
When he came to his senses, Castiel found himself sprawled on the cool ceramic tile of the kitchen floor. His head was pounding and his jaw throbbed from the punch he hadn’t seen coming. He tried to get his arms underneath him to push himself up when I foot connected with his side and he collapsed, curling around his midsection. Another kick landed on his spine, followed by Crowley forcing him onto his back and straddling his hips. Castiel tried to lift his head and push himself up with his elbows but Crowley grabbed his hair and slammed his head back into the floor. His vision swam with spots and tears flowed down the sides of his face, wetting his hair.  
  
“Fergus, please. Please stop.” His lower lip split with the next punch and he lay there stunned. He felt Crowley get off of him but a kick connect with his ribs again. He stayed on the floor, trying not to vomit from the pain while Crowley downed the rest of his drink. The cold look on his face terrified Castiel. There was tightness in his chest and it hurt to breath but he tried to sit up. “Please.”  
  
Crowley bent down and gently cupped Castiel’s face in his hands. His thumbs ran carefully over Castiel’s cheeks as though trying to soothe the hurt. One hand moved to run through his hair. Castiel blinked hazily up at him, a sick, twisted parallel to his kiss with Dean. The voice that reached his ears was low and dangerous, sending goose bumps up and down his arms.  
  
“I’m going to tell you something very important, angel. Either you come back to me, or I’ll make sure your precious Winchester never wants to look at you again.” Castiel’s blood froze and his weak gasp turned into painful coughing.  
  
“Dean,” His voice was a broken whisper, “I choose Dean.” He could taste blood from his lip in his mouth.  
  
“Wrong answer, love. But we’ll see if I can’t get you to change that decision.” Castiel struggled as he was pulled to his feet, managing to land a punch in Crowley’s stomach and deep scratches across his left cheek. But it wasn’t enough; another punch to his stomach doubled him over with another painful coughing fit. Crowley used this to his advantage and pulled Castiel across the room after him.  
  
When the heavy wooden door of the study slammed behind him, a piece of Castiel died with the sound.  
  


  
The reflection in the mirror was unforgiving. Every blemish, bruise, and raw stop stood out in stark contrast against his pale skin under the harsh light of the bathroom.  
  
He had called Anna. Crowley had left some time earlier, leaving Castiel an empty shell on the carpet of the study. Somehow, he could not really remember doing it, but he managed to pick himself up and leave. Pain radiated through his body with every step he took. He had called her, his words breaking around choked down sobs. She picked him up a few blocks from school, he was standing on the curb waiting for her when she pulled up, jumping out of the car and running to him to gather him up in a tight hug.  
  
She let it go when he said he didn’t want to talk about it and just stood there on the sidewalk hugging him while his whole body shook with pain and hiccupped crying. She led him to the car where he sat, uncomfortable and sniffing, the entire ride home. When they got to house Castiel refused to get out of the car, he didn’t need any of the others seeing him like this. They would ask questions and questions were not what he wanted right now. Anna shushed him, keeping his panic at bay, and ushered him quietly into the house, assuring him that everyone else was busy. They made it up to his room without seeing anyone.  
  
“Are you sure you’re okay? Should I take you to the hospital?” Castiel shook his head vigorously, which only made it throb more.  
  
“I’m okay.” He croaked. Anna smiled at him and kissed his forehead.  
  
“I’ll make you some tea.” She offered as she left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. He shuffled into the bathroom then. Tired eyes stared back at him out of a stranger’s face, mottled with bruises and set off with a pair of puffy, slightly bloody lips. Gingerly he lifted his torn shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor, fighting back the nausea threatening to overtake him. A map of abuse was laid out, from the valleys of his collarbones, down the planes of his chest, and further, disappearing into his jeans. His eyes raked over the darkening bruises and sensitive skin. His fingers touched the blood pooling on his lower lip before resting on the waistband of his jeans.  
  
His breath stopped and he squeezed his eyes shut tight against the burn of tears and exhaustion. Sucking in air and blowing it back out slowly, he braced himself. When his pants hit the floor a chocked sob escaped his throat. The bruising was far worse below his waistline. Dark, angry marks in the shape of hands and fingertips digging into his skin formed along his hips. There was blood down there as well, where fingernails dug in too deep and drops from Crowley’s mouth after Castiel had bit him in self defense. He winced as he remembered the knee to the ribs he had received for that infraction.  
  
The nausea worsened and he braced himself against the counter on shaky arms and took a few deep breaths. He needed to take a shower. He needed to wash off all the blood and other bodily fluids drying to his skin and let it, and the memories, run down the drain. He grabbed a towel from under the sink, using it wipe most of the mess off his torso and from between his thighs. He stared at it for a moment before, with a small cry, he threw it back under the sink, far from sight.  
  
Shakily he climbed into the claw-foot tub/shower and quickly adjusted the heat to scalding. He scrubbed at his skin until it was pink from the heat and his rough movements. It was the best he could do but it he still felt disgusting, dirty. Still shaking, he sank down to sit on the floor of the tub and cry. He sat there long after the water had run cold.  
  


  
He woke to find Anna perched on the side of his bed, applying a warm cloth to the side of his face where the bruising and swelling was the worst. He remembered her finding him in the tub last night, drying him off and forcing him into bed with a hot mug of tea. She had sat at his side, much as she was now, until after he had fallen asleep.  
  
He managed a small smile before pushing himself up into a sitting position, whimpering as his sore stiff muscles screamed at him. Anna propped a pillow up behind him. He was not prepared for the sight of the rest of his family spread throughout his room. Gabriel stood at the side of his bed next to Anna and Israfael sat at the foot of it with Balthazar standing behind her. Castiel turned to glare at Anna, who glared right back. He sighed and bowed his head, fingers twisting in his sheets. He couldn’t bring himself to look at any of them, shame eating at his insides. A hand ruffled his hair and he looked up, startled. It was Gabriel.  
  
“Any chance you’ll tell us the fucker’s name?” His voice and smile were brittle, fragile things.  
  
“You know he won’t.” Balthazar said quietly. Castiel winced, tears stinging his eyes but his cousin was right. He wasn’t ready to even think his name, let alone speak it aloud. It was too much and he felt like he was coming apart at the seams. Anna continued to apply warm clothes to the bruises she could see. A pained cry escaped her lips when the sheets fell lower, revealing more of Castiel’s torso.  
  
“Oh Castiel.” She breathed, her already red-rimmed eyes growing wet again.  
  
“Anna, don’t. Please. I just can’t.” His voice caught on the last word but it did little to stop her tears. Gabriel ruffled his hair again and climbed onto the bed next to Castiel to sit, while Israfael and Balthazar both sprawled out too. Anna slid closer to Castiel, carefully pulling him close. Gabriel’s hand rested gently on Castiel shoulder. He was surrounded by a puppy pile of his family like the used to when they were children. It wasn’t Castiel’s fault when he started crying too, burying his face in Anna’s shoulder.  
  
Really.  



	10. Chapter 10

**Dean:** Cas?  
 **Dean:** Come on Cas, answer me.  
 **Dean:** You missed class all week. I picked up  your homework.  
 **Dean:** I can take a hint. Hope you’re okay.  
  
Dean had thought nothing of the first missed day, everyone needed a mental health day every once in awhile, Cas deserved one more than most. When the second and third day rolled around with just one or two Miltons in the school and Cas nowhere to be found, Dean got a little worried. Text messages and phone calls had gone unanswered and no matter how hard he tried he could never catch anyone long enough to ask what was going on. He texted Gabe when he finally got his number, it was the only one that he _could_ get and he’d practically had to sell Andy his kidney to get it.  
  
 **Dean:** Where the hell have you guys been all week?  
 **Gabe** : Family shit.  
 **Dean:** Is Cas okay?  
 **Dean:** Gabe?  
 **Dean:** God damnit.  
  
There had been nothing but more silence after that; he’d even gone over to the house to try and talk to Cas, no one had answered the door. He left Cas’ books outside the front door with a note. _Sorry_ was all it said, tucked inside his Latin textbook. He couldn’t sleep. His brain wouldn’t shut off at night and just kept thinking up one terrible thing after another as he imagine why Cas wasn’t talking to him.  
  
Friday morning when he finally managed to drag himself out of bed and downstairs for breakfast Ellen took one look at him and tsked.  
  
“Honey, pardon my saying, but you look like shit. I’ve seen brighter eyes on a corpse.” A grunt was all Dean could muster in response. She turned him around and marched him right back up the stairs. He protested along the way, muttering things like “I’m fine” and “I don’t know why you’re making a big deal out of this.” She left him in his room where he stood awkwardly, trying to decide if he was angry or grateful. Ellen came back in a minute later with some aspirin and a big glass of orange juice.  
  
“Just let me go to school, I’m fine.” She set the items down on his desk and stared him down till his shoulders dropped in defeat. He sat down heavily on the edge of his bed with a sigh.  
  
“What’s going on? You’ve been walking around here like someone killed your puppy.”  
  
“It’s nothing.” He mumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face.  
  
“Don’t give me that. It’s something.” He stared at the floor and couldn’t say anything, he didn’t even know what the problem was, let alone how to talk about it. The mattress shifted as Ellen sat down next to him. “Castiel hasn’t been around much this week.” Dean didn’t respond. “Did something happen between you two?”  
  
He didn’t say anything but his shoulders tightened unconsciously. That was enough of an answer for Ellen apparently because she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Dean, whatever it is that happened, you and that boy are a rare kind of friends. Nothing will keep you two apart if you don’t want it to. Not even this.” The bed rocked as she stood up. “Take a sick day, I’ll take care of Sam.” The door clicked softly as she left and Dean squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t notice the damp spots landing in his lap.  
  


  
After an hour, Dean gave up on his moping. Ellen should be gone by now, along with the brats and he couldn’t sit in this room anymore. He pulled on a stained pair of pants that had seen better days twice over and an old shirt with holes worn through at the collar and hem. Working in the garage would help to put his nerves at ease and Baby could use a tune up. He thumped down the stairs and through the living room to the front door when a voice from the study stopped him.  
  
“I hope you’re not planning on going anywhere, boy.”  
  
“Just out to the garage.” Dean said innocently, leaning against the door frame that separated the two rooms. Bobby grunted, looking up from the papers on his desk.  
  
“Ellen left specific instructions not to let you leave, that you needed to sleep.” He scratched at his bearded chin. “Now, I don’t particularly agree with being told to babysit you, but after getting a good look at you I think she might be right.”  
  
“Bobby. Really?” The older man huffed out a breath. “Git. But only the garage, idgit. If she finds out I let you out of the house there will be hell to pay and it won’t be from you.” The grin Dean shot him before he left the house was a ghost of the one that he usually wielded and Bobby sighed as the screen door slammed shut.  
  
The garage was his sanctuary. There was order here and he was always in control. There was nothing that could go wrong in this room that he could fix with time and elbow grease. The Impala sat in the center of the garage like she was waiting for him. He smiled and ran a hand over the hood. This he could handle. No matter what happened to his car he could always make it like new again. He dropped an old cassette into the stereo and _Led Zepplin II_ started playing through the garage, echoing off the corrugated metal walls as he cranked the volume.  
  
That afternoon found him deep under the hood of the Impala, focused solely on fixing up his baby. He heard his phone buzz on the workbench and paused in the fiddlings to wipe his hands off. The text was from Gabe, his pulse jumped a little. All the work had kept thoughts of Cas and the situation from his mind, for which he was grateful. He scrubbed the grease from his hands in the sink and then flipped his phone open.  
  
 **Gabe:** You coming or what?  
 **Dean:** I’m sorry, it’s been so long. Who is this?  
 **Gabe:** Crybaby. Coming?  
 **Dean:** ?  
 **Gabe:** Do you live under your car? Party 2nite @ house  
 **Gabe:** Yes or no  
 **Dean:** No promises  
 **Gabe:** Is this about that thing with Cassy?  
 **Gabe:** We know you smooched lover boy - Iz  
 **Gabe:** Yeah don’t be such a girl! -B  
 **Dean:** wtf is my life  
 **Gabe:** Your ass better be here soon or else we will come get you.  
 **Dean:** Fuck off  
 **Gabe:** We love you too  
  
Dean sighed and closed his phone. He really didn’t have an excuse _not_ to go to the party. The house was empty, Bobby and Ellen and stopped by the garage on their way out for the evening. Ellen hadn’t been happy that he’d spent all day working but she kept her comments to a minimum. They had informed that Jo was out on an overnight wilderness trip and Sammy was sleeping over at a friend’s house. Being a total nerd, Dean was sure. If he went he could at least _see_ Cas and make sure that he was okay. Hopefully he would be too busy for Dean’s presence to make him uncomfortable. He really just wanted to fix whatever he broke with that stupid kiss so they could go back to the way things were.  
  
He shut the hood of the Impala, snagged his cassette from the stereo and headed toward the house. His stomach grumbled loudly, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten much beside the half bag of chips he’d had out in the garage. In the kitchen, he started the music back up - Zeppelin always put him in a good mood - rummaged in the fridge for food. He found some leftovers, Ellen’s spaghetti and... _score!_ There was Dutch apple pie left over! Dean felt his mood lighten as he cut himself a quarter of the pie, no one was around to complain about how much he was eating or question his portion sizes.  
  
He ate his dinner to the sounds of _Ramble On_ , savoring every bite of his pie. As he dropped his dishes into the sink his phone buzzed again in his pocket.  
  
 **Gabe:** Little. Girl. You have ONE HOUR.  
  
Dean frowned. God, what a dick. He shoved his phone back in his pocket as he climbed the stairs and left a trail of grease-smeared clothes in the hall on his way to the bathroom. He turned the shower on and stood in the spray, letting the hot water ease the tension in him - Christ knew there was enough of it. His mind wandered and he found himself thinking of The Kiss. The timing had just seemed so perfect, and the song Cas had sang. It was like he’d been asking him to kiss him, what else was he supposed to do? It had been so good too! He ran his fingers lightly over his lips; he could still feel the softness of Cas’ slightly chapped lips. He’d been more than pleasantly surprised when Castiel had pushed him back into the grass, even now his arousal made it self known. He let his thoughts wander lingering on the kiss, the feel of Castiel’s hair between his fingers.  
  
He imagined Cas there in the shower with him, nimble fingers trailing down his back through the streams of hot water and wrapping slowly around his hips. Dark hair made darker by the water and damp air, droplets clumping in eyelashes over smoldering blue eyes.  
  
 _They kissed, heated and needy with water running over their faces. Castiel nipped at Dean’s ear, then down along the side of his neck to his collarbone, alternating his teeth with tongue and lips._  
  
 _“Cas.” He whined tugging the boy up against him, drinking water from his lips. The infuriating, and endearing, tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth, eyes locked on Dean’s as he lowered himself slowly to his knees, leaving a trail of kisses and bites in his wake. He pushed Dean back, out of the spray of water and kissed playfully at the line where his thigh met his pelvis, then mirrored it on the other side. When he looked back up at Dean through dark lashes his eyes had gone deep blue with lust and Dean watched in wonder as his dick disappeared agonizingly slow between pink lips. Castiel’s groans vibrated through his mouth and thrummed through Dean, making him twitch and whimper. He was stroking himself while he sucked Dean off._  
  
 _Before long Dean was crying out, begging, pulling at Castiel where his hand was resting on his shoulder for support. He wouldn’t make it much longer and he wanted them to come together. Finally Castiel relented, giving into Dean’s urgent tugging and rising to meet Dean’s mouth with his own. Dean pushed him up against the wall of the shower; the tiles were cool under their heated bodies, and they rutted against each other like the horny teenagers that they were. Castiel gasped against his ear, grunting and moaning his pleasure as Dean wrapped a hand around both their dicks and jerked them off together._  
  
Dean came over his own hand with a low groan, alone in the shower. He pressed his forehead against the tile wall for a moment before grabbing the soap and washing off. After the shower he stood in front of his closet, a towel wrapped around his hips, mentally running through his short list of clothes for something that wasn’t covered in grease stains. Ellen had insisted on buying him and Sam extra clothing when they moved in with them, but this didn’t solve Dean’s dilemma.  
  
He ended up pulling on his least ripped or stained (two holes and only one small stain that he could find) jeans and a dark grey tee that didn’t show any stains and wasn’t _too_ wrinkled. He flushed annoyingly at himself when he stopped to check the mirror one last time to make sure his hair wasn’t a disaster.  
  
Balthazar and Gabriel were right…he was a girl. He shoved that thought out of his head and headed out to the car, locking the house up as he left.  
  
  
He had to park down the street from the Milton’s house when he finally got there, the driveway was full and the house was teeming with people. Music pumped out of the windows as he walked up the sidewalk, it was damn near deafening when he walked through the front door. Chucked waved to him when he caught his eyes but he appeared to have his hands full with his little psycho of a girlfriend. He sidestepped Andy offering him a joint and pushed on through the living room on the lookout for any of the Miltons.  
  
The kitchen seemed like the most likely spot to find someone. Sure enough, Gabriel was leaning against the counter with his one true love, a cupcake. Which he was attempting to shove into his mouth.  
  
“Ey! Dean-o!” He called, beckoning Dean over. “Man am I glad to see your ugly mug. Maybe it’ll get Cassy to-” Dean didn’t hear the rest of his sentence, he was busy skidding across the tile with an armful of Castiel, who grinned at him.  
  
“Hello, Dean! You made it!” He leaned in, pressing his face against Dean’s neck. “You smell good, like engine grease and soap.” The words were practically crooned into Dean’s ear  
  
“Cas, are you drunk?” He asked, grabbing the slighter boy by the shoulders and pushing him back enough to see his face – _but not enough to break body contact_ a small voice noted. Castiel confirmed his suspicions by giggling.  
  
That wasn’t the least bit adorable.  
  
Nope.  
  
“It’s a party, Dean! Inebriation is the key!” He wiggled out of Dean’s grasp, hips swaying to the music thumping through the house. “Come on!” He said, grabbing Dean’s wrist and pulling him along. Dean shot a confused look at Gabriel, who just shrugged and gave him a thumbs up. He was dragged through the crowd of students into the surprisingly empty back hallway. Without preamble, Dean found himself shoved up against the wall with Castiel was inches from his face.  
  
“Whoa. Hey, Cas-” That was all he managed to get out before Castiel kissed him. Hell, ‘kissed’ was even an accurate term; his tongue was doing things that Dean hadn’t even begun to imagine. He fought his growing arousal, telling himself not to take advantage of Cas because he was drunk, but he was hard pressed not to. After his shower fantasy he’d hoped that it would help him keep his cool around Castiel. This was not the case. When they broke away, Castiel went straight for his neck, trailing hot kisses down the length of it, just as Dean had imagined. At some point his hands had found their way up under his shirt and those long, nimble fingers were pressing into his hips and back.  
  
“Cas,” He tried again, pushing half-heartedly at the other boy’s arms.  
  
“Shut up, Dean.” Was the growled reply, the forcefulness of the command made Dean pause. He felt the sharp press of teeth on his collarbone, not enough to break skin, but just enough to tighten muscles low in his belly.  
  
“Cas, this is...probably not a good idea.” Castiel pulled back and stared at him, eyes too bright.  
  
“I said shut up. Isn’t this what you wanted?” Dean stared back, his eyebrows raised in surprise and confusion.  
  
“No, Cas. Why would you think that?” Castiel turned away, pulling his hands back into his own space. Dean felt the loss of warmth instantly.  
  
“I need to go.”  
  
“No, Cas...look, what’s going on? I haven’t heard from you all week and now you try and jump me in your back hall. I appreciate the gesture, don’t get me wrong, but what the hell, man?” Castiel glanced up at him from the corner of his eye.  
  
“I’m sorry.” He turned a left the hallway without looking back. Dean pressed his knuckles into his forehead and slumped back against the wall.  
  
God damnit.  
  
What the hell had just happened?  
  
There was a tap on his shoulder and he looked up to see Gabriel walking past him towards the garage. He followed, shutting the door behind them. It was quieter and the cool air felt glorious on his fraying nerves after the overheated house.  
  
“Cas doesn’t drink.” Gabriel popped the last bite of cupcake into his mouth and swallowed, thoughtfully licking frosting off one of his fingers. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one, inhaling deeply. Dean could practically taste the filter on his lips so he looked away.  
  
“The esteemed Reverend Milton and his wife blew in and out of town yesterday.” Dean winced, he knew enough about them to know that this wasn’t a good thing.  
  
“Yeah, they handed down The Ultimatum. If Cassy doesn’t choose college and decides to pursue that band, it would ‘not be promising for his future’.”  
  
“What about the rest of you? Why just Cas?”  
  
“Ha, they’ve given up on the rest of us. Anna and I have managed to save up enough from the ’allowance’ they give us every month to support us after we graduate, for a few months at least. Iz and Balth have done the same, we’ll all figure it out until we can get ‘real jobs’. Castiel though? He’s the heir, man. The biological miracle child. The golden boy. He’s supposed to go to college and get his degree in seminary and continue the family business, or so they say.”  
  
Gabriel’s bitter laughter made Dean’s heart sink lower. He knew Cas would pick college and be the good son. It was just the way he was. Gabriel’s sharp smile was back again. “Anyways, maudlin whining aside, Castiel needs friends right now. You especially.” Dean snorted.  
  
“Is that why he just assaulted me in the hallway?” Gabriel smiled and patted him on the shoulder, heading back into the house.  
  
“Don’t pretend you didn’t like it, lover boy. I better go check on the troops. Just be there for my little brother, yeah? Oh, and smooth move ambushing the poor kid’s mouth.” He winked at Dean before walking inside, leaving the door open behind him.  
  
“Is there anything you guys don’t know?!” Dean called after him. Despite his desire to follow Gabriel and check on Castiel himself, he hung around upstairs. He ran into Anna briefly, who patted him on the cheek before running off to join her family. He shook his head, why was everyone treating him like some dumb little kid? He located cold beer and was through his second and onto his third when he followed the crowd down to the basement.  
  
There was a flash of deja vu, watching Castiel setting up for a different show, before he knew the blue-eyed singer or his funhouse of a family. He pushed his way to the front of the room, his heart clenched a bit when he caught sight of Castiel sliding his fingers over the strings of his guitar. Thirty minutes ago those fingers had been all over him...  
  
It was ridiculous how hard he was falling for some boy that was just going to leave him behind.  
  
Castiel seemed slightly less drunk, at least, and Dean flushed when their eyes caught and Cas smiled at him. One by one the rest of the family filtered on stage, dressed much to stylishly for it not to have ANNA stamped all over it. When everyone in the room settled down and Gabriel stepped up to his mic, Dean felt a small worm of unease wiggle in his stomach at the general lack of energy in all of them.  
  
“Thanks for joining us in our endeavor to trash the parents precious house tonight, guys!” Gabriel laughed and the crowd joined in, cheering. “Someone wanted us to quit providing entertainment for all of you lovely people.” He mimed a tragic expression and the students booed. “But! Luckily for you kiddies, we’ve never been very good listeners! So drink up and enjoy!”  
  
They all readied their instruments to begin playing but as the music started, Castiel opened his mouth to sing and nothing came out. Dean could see the panicked look Castiel threw Anna before pulling his guitar off, handing it to her and jumping off the stage. He made a beeline for the small laundry room that they used as a ‘green room’ or whatever Gabriel called it.  
  
The crowd burst into loud chatter before Anna spoke into her microphone. “Excuse Castiel for just a moment. He’s been rather ill this week.” She pulled a pretty good impression of Gabriel’s pout before continuing. “However, if you don’t mind, I think the rest of us can try and make up for it until he comes back!” Her theatrics made the crowd hoot and laugh.  
  
She set her violin back in its stand and slid the strap to Castiel’s guitar over her head. With everyone ready again, they opened with a far more punk sound than Dean had heard from them before, just guitars until Israfael joined in with the drums a few measures into the song. He couldn’t help glancing at the door Castiel had disappeared into every few seconds. He missed most of what was happening because of this, other than being impressed by Anna’s voice. He began pushing his way towards the room just as Gabriel and Anna jumped into the chorus.  
  
 _You treat me just like another stranger,_  
 _Well it’s nice to meet you, sir_  
 _I guess I’ll go._  
 _I’ll just be on my way out!_  
  
He closed the door behind him and was immediately greeted with the image of Castiel vomiting into a trashcan.  
  
“Are you okay?” He rushed over to his friend’s side, sliding one hand onto his back, rubbing in small circles. Castiel’s took shallow breaths but largely ignored him. “You know, this is why you aren’t supposed to down a lot of booze in a short amount of time.” He joked, trying to insert any levity he could.  
  
“Go away, Dean. I’m fine.”  
  
“Ouch, man.” He caught Castiel’s wrist as he stood. “Cas, come on. What’s wrong with you?”  
  
“I told you, I’m fine. Really.” He wobbled, but shook off Dean’s grip on him. “Go enjoy the show, I’ll see you after.”  
  
“Cas, wait!” But it wasn’t enough. The other boy was out of Dean’s grasp and already climbing back onto the stage. Dean stayed in the doorway of the small room and watched Castiel slide his guitar back over his head. The music started with a kick, very much the Milton style. Castiel’s voice was rough and wavering, but quickly smoothed out. This song, although still upbeat, was much angrier sounding than usual. Even with the other Milton’s providing backup vocals and adding a softer edge to it, he could hear the raw emotion in Castiel’s voice; it was more than a little surprising.  
  
 _I’m going crazy and I’ve been awake for days,_  
 _My mirrors are stained with pain and portraits of your face._  
 _Don’t leave,_  
 _Take it from me,_  
 _You’re my dirty disease._  
  
A few times through the song, Castiel’s voice would break, but one of the others would seamlessly cover the line instead. It actually created a nice effect, but Dean wasn’t convinced that it was intentional. His worry skyrocketed. Instead of dragging his friend off the stage and taking him somewhere quiet and secluded to take all those emotions away, he stalked out into the basement to find another beer, downing it in a few long swallows and snagging another.  
  
The band switched to another song. This one was calmer, more playful; Dean twisted the bottle in his hands to stop his fingers from itching for a cigarette from all the stress buzzing under his skin. He could see Castiel searching the sea of faces for his, and when they finally made eye contact, Dean could see the question in the singer’s face. Why was he so far away from the stage? Dean only smiled placating at him. He knew he should move closer, but Castiel’s mixed signals were frustrating, making him irritable. The crowd wasn’t helping. He was so goddamn attracted to his friend that he wanted to erase whatever it was that was making him act so strangely, even if it was himself. The other students cheered as the song ended.  
  
“Alright you guys. We’re going to do something a little different, but we need you to bear with us.” Gabriel’s grinned at the crowd and earned another cheer in response. Dean watched, surprised, as Israfael stood up and attached her electronic drum pad to an amp, and then pulled her stool up next her brother at his piano with the kit in her lap. “Also, be prepared to lose your panties, ladies. Would you believe that I’m multi-talented?” He wiggled his eyebrows comically, earning laughed as he sat down in front of a keyboard.  
  
Castiel set aside his guitar and gripped the microphone stand like a lifeline. He looked almost smaller and more vulnerable without his instrument, standing alone in the middle of the stage. The room was almost silent as Balthazar started playing softly, the piano’s sound slowly building a little louder as Castiel began singing a few seconds later. Dean found himself moving closer, just to watch. The song was much slower than Dean had anticipated, the Milton’s voices blending to support Castiel’s vocals.  
  
 _Every morning you are nowhere to be found, nowhere to be found_  
 _and my bed, is half empty, not half full_  
 _I’d rather live with broken bones_  
 _Than lay here all on my own_  
 _Like a lovesick fool_  
  
Dean didn’t usually try to read too much into the lyrics of Castiel’s songs, but this one struck a particular chord with him. He stopped just a few short feet from the edge of the stage and watched Castiel sing, eyes shut tight, willing him silently to open his eyes and confirm his thoughts. It didn’t happen until the song ended and even then it was only a quick glance accompanied by a small smile. That was enough for Dean.  
  
“Now that was fun, wasn’t it?” Gabriel called out, coming around to the front of the keyboard to stand next to Castiel. Anna and Israfael handed each of them an acoustic guitar before they all sank down to sit on the floor in the small group. One of Becky’s weirdo friends tossed her shirt at Balthazar, who winked at her and elicited excited screams from the group. Dean rolled his eyes; only Castiel’s family would treat basement concerts like they were actual rock stars.  
  
Castiel started playing, mellow and quiet, hunched over his guitar.  
  
 _I hate to break it to you but_  
 _you’re just a lonely star_  
  
His voiced carried easily as the first verse continued. It was low and rough and Dean was struck by the simplicity of the stripped down music. Gabriel joined in on his guitar, playing a simple melody.  
  
 _You keep me on the edge of my seat_  
 _I bite my tongue so you don’t hear me_  
 _I wanna hate every part of you with me_  
 _I can’t hate the ones who made me_  
  
There was a tension in the singer’s shoulders that hadn’t been there earlier and when his voice broke in the second verse Dean found it hard to breathe. It took everything he had not to leap up onto the stage and drag Cas away from all these people. To fix whatever had been broken and make him smile again. As soon as the song finished, Castiel pulled off the guitar, handed it to Balthazar none-too-gently and jumped off the stage making a beeline for the basement stairs. Dean called his name, trying to stop him, but Castiel either didn’t hear him or ignored him. He pushed through the crowd of students as the rest of the band started up on another, livelier song.  
  
When he made it up to the first floor, Cas was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t in any of the main rooms or the bathrooms - though walking in on a couple of students getting hot and heavy had been an awkward experience. He checked the back porch before heading upstairs to search the second floor and found Castiel curled up on the porch swing with a bottle in hand. His face was turned away, staring out into the darkness surrounding the house. He hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on and the only illumination came from the windows. Dean closed the door quietly behind him and stood in the half darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

“Cas?” There was no response, not even a movement. Dean’s brow creased with worry. “Cas, are you alright?” He moved across the deck with deliberate care, like Cas was a frightened animal that might bolt at the first sign of danger, but he still didn’t move.  
  
“Dude, what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird all night.” He put his hand on Cas’ shoulder and the dark haired boy flinched away. Dean let his hand drop back down to his side. “Cas...”  
  
Cas turned too wide eyes rimmed in tears that glistened in the half-light up to Dean’s face. Dean felt a piece of himself shatter at the sight of Cas in tears.  
  
“Dean...I’m sorry...”  
  
“Hey, don’t. It’s cool.” Dean sat down on the swing next to the boy, and hesitated. What should he do? Hug him? He’d flinched away from his hand before. Pat him on the back and tell him to buck up? That was what his Dad would have done but that seemed...inappropriate for the situation. Instead he sat awkwardly in his seat, staring at his hands sitting in his lap. Cas sniffled and took a long draw from the bottle in his hands. Dean caught a whiff of the sharp tang of whiskey. This couldn’t be good. Cas didn’t drink hard liquor.  
  
“No. I didn’t mean to...I dunno, freak out like that.”  
  
Dean let out a wavering chuckle. “You don’t have to apologize to me for that. It’s your “adoring fans” you should worry about.” Cas shook his head a little too hard, a little too fast.  
  
“Not them. Not that. The other day at the park, god I’m such a failure.” Dean caught the bottle before it hit the porch as Cas buried his face into his hands. “I can’t even make my parents happy.” Dean looked at Cas, then at the bottle in his hands. He took a long sip then set it safely out of the way.  
  
“Don’t apologize for the park fiasco...I shouldn’t have done that to you.” Dean grimaced; damn this was hard to say. “It was-”  
  
“No!” Cas said fiercely, suddenly gripping the sides of Dean face with his hands. “It was wonderful. I’m the one that should feel bad. Not you. You’re perfect and nice and wonderful and you have freckles and your eyes turn this dark green that I really like and you leave me notes that make me feel better-” Dean stopped listening. _He knew about the notes._ Dean’s thoughts raced.  
  
“You know about the notes?”  
  
“Well, yeah.” Cas looked confused, but still hadn’t relinquished control of Dean’s face. “I mean, the last one was on the back of your Engineering notes and it was Vonnegut, so that was kind of a giveaway but the Engineering notes really confirmed it. I just thought it-” Castiel’s face went white and he suddenly threw himself off the swing and just barely made it to the railing before he retched over the side of the porch. It went on for several seconds and he stood there afterward taking quick shallow breaths. Dean came over and rubbed his back.  
  
“Maybe we should take you upstairs, get some water in you, huh?” He led Castiel through the house by the arm, quickly dodging past the myriad of students throughout the house. They finally made it up the stairs and into the quiet of Cas’ room. He sat Castiel down on the edge of the bed and moved away to go get a him a glass of water. Cas’ fingers caught his sleeve, gripping it tightly.  
  
“Dean?” His voice sounded panicked.  
  
“Yeah, Cas?”  
  
“Dean, don’t leave.”  
  
“I’m just going to get you a glass of water from the bathroom. I’ll be back in two shakes.” Cas nodded mutely and Dean hurried off, returning in a few seconds with the water. He sat down next to Castiel, “What’s up?” He watched as Cas stared down at his lap, twisting the fabric of his t-shirt around his fingers.  
  
“I...we...we’re good friends, right?”  
  
Dean snorted, “Yeah, Cas, we’re good friends.”  
  
“Best friends?” He looked up, eyes wide and pale in the moonlight filtering in through the picture window.  
  
“Of course, what is it?” He went back to watching his hands twist the fabric and Dean watched his shadowed profile.  
  
“I...well...I dumped Crowley.” It was nearly and whisper when it finally came out, strained and rough.  
  
“Oh?” Dean kept his voice carefully neutral.  
  
“Yeah. It...He wasn’t happy about it.”  
  
“I wouldn’t think so, that son of a bitch it possessive as hell. I think it’s better this way, if you don’t mind me saying.” Castiel shook his head.  
  
“It’s fine. It is better, he just...got angry.” There was a hitch in his voice on the last word and Dean saw him shudder.  
  
“Are you okay, Cas?” When he put his hand on the boy’s shoulder he flinched, but didn’t move away. “What happened?” Castiel took a breath but it broke into a quiet sob.  
  
Dean panicked, tears were not his thing and he didn’t handle crying well. What was he supposed to do? He watched as Cas’ frame shook with silent sobs. He reached over and gently wrapped his arm around Cas’ shoulders, pulling him a bit closer. Castiel leaned into him and Dean could feel his shoulder dampen as tears soaked into his shirt.  
  
“Cas.” He whispered quietly, supporting him and waiting for the tears to stop. After a few minutes he stilled and the sobs turned into small sniffles. He reached across Dean and grabbed a box of tissues off the nightstand. He blew his nose and set the box aside.  
  
“I told him it was done.” The whisper was ragged and raw and Dean just wanted to hug Cas close and make whatever hurt was causing this to go away, but he didn’t interrupt. “I told him before, but this time was different, he knew...I’ve never seen him that angry before. I tried to leave but he grabbed me, wouldn’t let me go.” The words continued to pour out and with each one Dean could feel his rage building. He clenched his hands into fists to keep them from trembling. “He just kept saying that ‘I was his and no one else could have me’. He...” Castiel took a shuddering breath. “It hurt. It hurt so much, Dean.”  
  
Dean stared at the wall, he was hardly aware that Castiel was still talking. All he could think about was the physical harm that he was going to cause Crowley the next chance he got.  
  
“Dean?” When he didn’t answer Castiel grabbed his face and turned his head toward him. “Dean. No. I can see what you’re thinking. You can’t go hurt him.” Dean stood quickly, abandoning Castiel on the side of the bed, and began pacing around the room.  
  
“Why not, Cas? Give me a damn good reason why I shouldn’t go find him, right now, and pound his face in?” He stared at Cas, rage-filled and dreading the answer he hoped to God would not come out.  
  
“I...still care about him.” Cas’ eyes darted around the room, landing on everything but Dean. Dean threw his hands up and resumed his pacing, faster now.  
  
“No you don’t! How could you...he...Jesus Christ, Cas!” He wanted to hit something. He wanted it to break. “Fuck!” He swore, raking his hands through his hair.  
  
“Dean, listen.” He continued his pacing, swearing under his breath and thinking up new and highly creative ways to take care of the abusive scum. “Dean!” Castiel stood in front of him. He tried to go around him but the singer just moved into his path again.  
  
“Move, Cas!” He said gruffly, trying to push by him again.  
  
“No. Listen to me. I have to be honest-” Dean silenced him with a look. “Dean, please...” Dean closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He couldn’t decide what to do, he didn’t want to hear what Cas had to say. Most of him wanted to storm out and beat the shit out of the first person to cross his path but a small, logical part of him told him to stay and listen, and soothe Cas’ hurt.  
  
“I need a minute.” He turned and headed for the door, Castiel inhaled sharply and Dean looked back to see that he had taken a few steps after him. “I’m just going outside.”  
  
“I’ll come with you.” He said quickly. Dean stopped and turned around to face him again. His blue eyes were starting to get a bit wide again and he was back to twisting his shirt.  
  
“No, Cas.” Dean sighed. “I’m not leaving. I just need some fresh air.” Castiel opened his mouth to say something else but Dean interrupted him. “I promise, I’ll be right back.”  
  
Castiel shuddered and reached out to grab the front of Dean’s shirt over his stomach and moved closer, pulling them together. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist in a simple hug and whispered, “Okay.” Then let go and shuffled back over to the bed.  
  
Dean left the room, letting out a great shuddering sigh as soon as the door closed behind him. He didn’t think he could face any of the dozens of students downstairs without possibly punching one of them in the face just for looking at him wrong, but he couldn’t just stand around here in the hallway. He looked around quickly; there were French doors at the end of the hall that led out onto a balcony, or something like that. He damn near sprinted for them, he just needed to be outside, alone, to clear his head and think. This was all too much and he hadn’t been prepared for any of it. He was a twisted mess of emotions, none of which were ones that he could easily deal with, except maybe the rage. That, of course, was the one that he couldn’t do anything about.  
  
He opened one of the doors and slipped out into the cold air. Thankfully, no one else had found the balcony. He collapsed onto on the of the benches and dropped his head into his hands. Images flashed through his head, Cas’ face contorted in pain, the pure panic that had been in his eyes when he’d looked at Dean. He could still hear the raw, broken tone of his voice.  
  
Dean took a few more deep breaths to bring his anger back in check. Turn off the emotions this is business. He’d never been this torn up about anyone. Hearing Cas say that he still cared about the sadistic sonovabitch had felt like someone had strapped an iron band around his chest and kept tightening it.  
  
“Goddamn it, stop being such a bitch.” He muttered to himself. He could sort out his feelings later, or never, Cas was the one with the problems right now. He’d looked so terrified that Dean would just leave. He sighed, mentally picked up all his issues and packed them away neatly to deal with when he felt more capable. He quietly trekked back into the house and crept back into Castiel’s room.  
  
The room was completely silent, save for the quiet rustle of sheets and the occasional sniffle coming from the bed. Dean climbed onto it and knelt along the edge, sitting quietly for a few minutes. What should he say? He wanted to fix this, but damage like Crowley had inflicted took time to heal.  
  
“Cas? How bad is it?” When there wasn’t a response he tried again. “I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have blown up like that.” Another rustle and Castiel’s head slid out from under the covers.  
  
“It’s alright. I know why you did.” They were both quiet for a while; Dean stared out the window watching the stars and the headlights of cars driving in the distance. He didn’t know what to do next, leaving seemed for the best but he couldn’t will himself to get up of the bed. If he stayed he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from making a move, no matter how inappropriate the timing might be.  
  
“Are you going to leave?” The question was so quiet Dean almost didn’t hear him ask it. He looked down at Castiel who had been staring up at him intently.  
  
“Do you want me to?” The dark haired boy shook his head. “Alright, scoot over.” Castiel slid over under the blankets and made room for Dean to lay out on the bed. He settled in with his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Why did you do it?” Castiel rolled onto his side and watched Dean’s face.  
  
“He cheated.” Dean turned his head to look at him. “I caught him. It had been bad for a long time before that.” Castiel blinked a few times, eyes bright. “He was very possessive...he’d get upset if I seemed to show too much interest in someone else. Even if it was just a simple conversation...” Dean grunted, what a piece of work. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to hear all of this...”  
  
“I’m the one that asked.”  
  
“Yes, but...”  
  
“But what?”  
  
“It can’t be easy to listen to someone you like talk about another guy.” Dean froze, staring blankly at Castiel. Apparently they were going to talk about it now. “I mean…we kissed. And you’ve been so supportive. And those notes.” Dean slapped a hand to his forehead.  
  
“You weren’t actually supposed to figure out the note thing.”  
  
“Well, yeah. I mean, at first I wasn’t sure, then I started to guess-”  
  
“Cas?”  
  
“Yeah?  
  
“Are you still drunk?”  
  
“Yeah kinda. Why?” Dean rolled over and pressed his lips softly against Castiel’s, catching him off guard. At first it was nothing but a chaste kiss, then suddenly everything changed. Castiel grabbed Dean’s hips and pulled himself closer to Dean, pressing their bodies together through the blankets and the kiss deepened. It was desperate and clumsy and perfect. Castiel tasted like toothpaste, the observation amused Dean. When they broke apart for air, Dean grunted and tugged the blankets out of the way, scrambling to get closer. Castiel whined quietly and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, pulling him close again, this time without blankets in the way.  
  
They kissed again, breaking apart periodically for air, only to dive right back in. Dean tangled the fingers of one hand up in the back of Castiel’s hair; it was just as he remembered. Castiel untangled his arms from about Dean’s neck and slid them down to his waist, humming contentedly against Dean’s mouth. Dean felt warm fingers feeling around until the found the hem of his shirt and slipped underneath, brushing lightly over his skin. His months of imagining had not been wrong, Castiel’s touch was electric and Dean could feel his blood rushing under his skin.  
  
He sat up and quickly pulled his shirt over his head, lowering himself back down to meet Castiel’s lips again. His hands roamed free, unhindered by fabric and long fingers skated over Dean’s back and along his spine. It was Dean’s turn to slide his hands up under Castiel’s shirt; he gripped his hip, using it to pull him closer. When Castiel hissed in pain, Dean immediately let go, pulling back to look at his face.  
  
Castiel winced, “Sorry, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”  
  
“Cas.” Dean didn’t need to say more. Castiel sighed and reached down to drip the bottom of his shirt and stiffly pulled it up over his head. He tossed it to the floor and laid back, turning his face away from Dean.  
  
His torso was mottled with colors. Long spots on his sides were deep shades while others were lighter, most likely that sickly yellow that bruises have, thought it was hard to tell in the moonlight. The worst were around his hips and ribs, the darkest colors.  
  
“Cas...” Dean breathed, he felt another fierce flicker of rage threaten to surface again but he squashed it quickly. Castiel still wasn’t looking at him. “This was all him?” He kept his voice soft and careful. A quick nod. Dean felt his throat tighten, how could someone do this to someone they supposedly cared about? He reached out, very gently, and ran his fingers down Castiel’s side.  
  
“God...I’m so sorry.”  
  
“It’s not your fault.” He whispered.  
  
“I know...I’m still sorry.” He did the only thing he could think of, he tried to make Castiel forget about the pain and the hurt, the betrayal. He kissed Castiel’s cheek, the moved slowly down his neck to his chest. When he reached the first bruise he ran his tongue over it very lightly and kissed it, moving down along his side to the next one and repeating the process. He could feel Castiel relaxing slowly under his ministrations, moving with him instead of remaining still, he looked up to find him watching. When he got down to his hips she slowly worked his way back up to meet Castiel’s lips again, careful not to bump any sore spots. They kissed again softly and when Dean pulled back he caught a wary look in Castiel’s eyes.  
  
“It’s all right, we can stop with that.” He watched Cas relax again and settled back onto his side to look down at him.  
  
“I’m sorry, Dean. I want to, I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now. There’s just...I can’t start-” Dean nodded, quieting him. A little voice in the back of his head said that something else was going on here, but he ignored it.  
  
“Do you just want to sleep then?” Castiel nodded, rolling onto his side. Dean shrugged and squirmed around, shucking his jeans and tossing them onto the floor.  
  
“Dean, what are you doing?”  
  
“Getting comfortable. You can’t seriously expect me to sleep fully clothed.” Castiel turned his head to eye Dean curiously. I promise, not moves will be made this night. Scouts honor.”  
  
“You were never a scout.” Castiel chuckled, but his jeans soon joined Dean’s on the floor. They settled back down and Dean pulled the blankets up over them. Castiel scooted back, closer to Dean, who draped an arm carefully over his waist, pressing his back against him.  
  
“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel murmured, sleep making his words thick. Dean kissed behind his ear softly.  
  
“Any time.” He listened as Cas’s breathing slowed and a perfect, comfortable silence filled the room and lulled them both to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

The sun shone bright into Dean’s eyes the next morning, sneaking in through a gap in the curtains. He squinted his eyes shut tight and rolled over away from the offensive light, only to find the bed empty. His head pounded faintly with the last legs of a hangover. He pulled on the first pair of jeans he found, not completely convinced they were his and not Cas’. Not bothering with a shirt, he padded barefoot out of the bedroom and down the hallway. The aftermath of the party was apparent everywhere. He stepped over an unconscious Balthazar on the landing as he headed downstairs and narrowly avoided tripping over Gabriel sprawled out in the living room. He could see other students passed out on couches and pillows or slumped against walls. The house was a disaster.

  
He searched room after room, trying to find Castiel, but had no luck. Under the kitchen table he found Anna and Israfael sleeping in a nest of blankets. Becky was curled around a couch cushion while her boyfriend, Chuck, lay abandoned on the floor. Still no Castiel. The basement was the last place to search; he side stepped a few more kids on his way down and heard the faint strumming of a guitar floating up the stairs. He followed the sound to the cross-legged form sitting in the middle of the floor amidst the remains of the previous night.

He picked his way across the floor; grabbing and water bottle from one of the coolers still placed around and sat down on the floor behind Castiel, back to back. Castiel strummed his acoustic guitar quietly for a while, neither boy acknowledge each other. Dean took a drink from the bottle and spun it in his hands, listening.

Castiel continued to play, his voice joined in, singing the opening lines to “Hallelujah”. Dean tilted his head back, resting it against Castiel’s shoulder. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the words spill from his friend’s lips. In the morning light, last night seemed a little more horrible and a little more distant. Like a nightmare you remember after you wake up but you can’t quite remember what you had been running from. The part of him trained by his father to analyze and solve cases poked at him, something about Castiel’s story was not what it seemed. Dean continued to shove the growing panic down as far as he could, avoiding that train of thought entirely. Surely Cas would have told him something that bad.

 _And I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch_  
 _and love is not a victory march_  
 _It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah._

Dean closed his eyes; Castiel sounded as tired as Dean felt. He lost himself in the sound of his partners voice for a while until the singing ended. Castiel continued to play, simply strumming chords that wandered about with no definite point. Dean stood up, leaning over Castiel and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Let’s get some food in you.”

Castiel made a face, “Is your solution to every problem food, Dean?”

“Yep,” he said with a grin. “Now get off your butt. Ellen makes some killer pancakes.”

The other boy set aside his guitar and took Dean’s offered hand. Dean could see him caving at the mention of Ellen’s cooking. “Fine, fine. Showers first, though. You smell like a bar.” Dean’s grin took on a cocky edge.

“I knew it. You just want to see me naked, I’m on to you!” He laughed as Castiel swatted at him, pulling him up the stairs and out of the basement.

  
Once showered – alone, unfortunately – and out of the house, Castiel started to look a little less fragile. Dean had even managed to get a few smiles out of him in the car. They pulled into the parking lot of the Roadhouse. He’d picked it on purpose, not only because Ellen’s breakfasts were legendary but – and he’d never admit to this – having Ellen close and pestering them was soothing and he was pretty sure Castiel was enjoying it as well. She’d taken one look at him when they walked in and bustled over to wrap Castiel in the kind of hug only mom’s could give. Dean had seen tears in Castiel’s eyes when she finally let him go. Nothing like having a mom fuss over you.

“So what are you going to do now?” Dean asked. They had been discussing the music deal that Crowley had essentially blackmailed Castiel with, but with fewer words and in a very roundabout way. Castiel glanced at him from behind the mountain of pancakes Ellen had heaped onto his plate.

“About the deal with Meg?” He was still avoiding saying Crowley’s name when he could. “Nothing. It was made very clear that if I ended things, it was over.”

“Dick.” He felt rewarded when Castiel chuckled lightly.

“Quite. The only problem is letting everyone else down.” His voice sounded thick and he stared down at his fork, pushing food around on his plate. “We only got the deal because of him, so…”

“Hey,” Dean slid his hand over the table and held it out for Castiel to take. He only flushed a little when the singer’s calloused fingertips brushed over his. A quick look told him that no one was looking their way, except for an overly nosey Ellen, who quickly went back to stacking dishes.

“I just, I don’t know how to tell them.”

“It’ll be fine, man. They’re crazy, but they’re your family. They’ll understand.” Dean ran a thumb lightly over the back of Castiel’s hand. Castiel just huffed miserably.

“It’s not the deal itself that I’m worried about, Dean. It’s who I made the deal through, that’s the problem. If I tell them I lost the deal because I dumped him, they’ll insist on finding out _whom_. Gabriel will go ballistic.”

“I still don’t know why you can’t just tell them who it was in the first place. I mean, I’m the first person to agree that that English douche is an insufferable asshole, but does it really matter to them?” Castiel smiled ruefully and shook his head.

“He’s Scottish, Dean. And I don’t know all the details, you’d have to drag that out of Gabriel, but from what I’ve been told they actually used to be friends. Something happened and ever since they’ve been at one another’s throats constantly.”

“I’m surprised you rebelled enough to date him.”

“I didn’t think it was fair to judge someone I had never met for some nebulous accusations of wrong doing, and he just seemed so…” He broke off and Dean squeezed his hand before withdrawing it so they could both finish their breakfast. It sucked watching Castiel tear himself up over someone has horrible as Crowley. Life had been easier when he only needed to care about Sammy, but he wouldn’t trade Cas for anything.

Luckily, before Castiel could lapse back into his funk Dean had been working so hard to pull him out of, Ellen strolled over and dropped a plate in the middle of the table. A tall, fluffy cinnamon roll slathered in thick white icing sat on it. Dean was stuffed from pancakes but he didn’t even care.

“Oh man, Aunt Ellen! Thanks!” He dug in with gusto and she laughed, smiling fondly at Castiel.

“Eat up, Castiel.” Castiel smiled up at her. “I apologize Mrs. Harvelle-Singer but-“

“Ellen.”

“…Ellen, but you’ve been too kind already. I really should pay for all this.” Ellen grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the table, straddling the back of it.

“Oh no you don’t. You’ve done more than enough to get this brat on track.” She said, tilting her head towards Dean. “Putting some meat on that skinny body of yours is the least I can do.” Dean looked up, still shoveling bites of cinnamon roll into his mouth. Castiel blushed at her praise, his eyes sliding to Dean’s as he took a small piece of the cinnamon roll. Dean watched as Castiel popped the piece into his mouth and choked on his own bite at the sound his friend made upon tasting the pastry. It was a sound made for the bedroom and not for the breakfast table.

Ellen smacked Dean on the back a few times, laughing at his misfortune. “I will admit though, that I have ulterior motives for plying you with my food.” Castiel looked at her with interest. “I was wondering if I could get a copy of your music. The bar needs a little liveliness at night and Bobby and I were thinking of hiring some acts to play a few nights a week. I’d like to hear your music.” Dean tried his hardest not to laugh at Castiel’s deer-in-the-headlights look. Ellen waited politely for Cas to respond. He’d cave, Dean knew, no one said no to Ellen.

“Of course…I can get you a demo I guess.”

“That would be great!” She said brightly, patting his hand.

“I’d have to ask the others about playing…”

“No rush, it’s just something we’re thinking about.” She slipped just a touch of disappointment into her tone. Dean knew this tactic of hers, she was a pro at getting what she wanted. The wounded look on Castiel’s face at Ellen’s “disappointment” was enough to tell Dean that she had hooked him. The singer sighed.

“Actually, Gabriel would probably be pleased with that. I’ll make sure to give Dean a copy of some songs, if that’s okay?” Ellen smiled and stood, ruffling Castiel’s hair. Dean hid his grin with his mug, taking a sip of coffee.

“Oh, that’s fine! I appreciate it!” With that she turned on her heel and went back to work. Castiel looked utterly bewildered as he popped the last few bites of cinnamon roll into his mouth.

“What just happened?”

“She got you, dude.” Castiel made a thoughtful sound, his eyes tracking Ellen’s movement as she worked.

“She’s really good at that.”

Dean just laughed.

  
Despite the endless ribbing from Castiel’s family, Dean’s week passed blissfully. He endured an hour in the morning of Balthazar asking pointedly inappropriate questions, followed by Gabriel and Israfael in American Literature, and then _all_ of them during lunch. It was like running a gauntlet of Miltons everyday.

He had a little brother with two unbroken arms, a roof over their heads that wasn’t the Impala’s, and people who actually cared about them. Not to mention Castiel. Crowley had been absent from their shared Calculus class, however, and that set Dean on edge. He’d learned enough from his father to when to expect an attack and that was the feeling he had now. It made him reluctant to let Castiel out of his sight. The bruises were fading from his skin and Castiel seemed to be relaxing bit by bit, but Dean still worried.

The second highlight was his new ability to touch Cas. Brushing hands while walking, grabbing his shoulder, wrapping his arms around him, and of course the kissing. It was becoming an addiction, the quick rush he got just from the contact. Ellen and Bobby started to enforce an open door policy to make sure studying was actually occurring. It seemed like a ridiculous gesture to Dean; since they hadn’t progressed any further than kissing and Castiel was a stickler for getting work done before having fun.

Dean also worried about pushing him too far, too fast. So he had, in an uncharacteristically charitable gesture, shoved his raging teenage hormones to the side and tried to focus on taking it slow.

It might kill him.

He spent more time in the shower than was necessary but it was worth every inch that Castiel relaxed when they were together. He was even planning a real date for them, another first for Dean Winchester. Things were settling down into a rhythm and Sioux Falls was starting to carry the soft edge of ‘home’. So when he walked into the Milton household the next Friday, he was caught off guard by the yelling echoing through the house.

“So that’s it then? You’re just going to roll over and do whatever mommy and daddy say?”

“Gabriel!”

“No, Anna! Why would you even give her the demo if you were just going to give up on us anyways!”

“Gabriel, please, it’s just-”

“Oh I get it, Castiel. Go be the perfect Ivy League college boy. Leave us all behind!”

Dean turned the corner into the living room as Gabriel stormed passed him and out to the back patio. Castiel was standing in the middle looking after where his older brother had gone, Anna next to him with her hand on his shoulder. Israfael was sitting in a chair next to Balthazar, who sat on the arm. Dean cleared his throat, breaking the quiet, and spurring the room’s occupants into motion. The Milton cousins both stood, and after Israfael quietly hugged Castiel, they both left as well, headed towards the guesthouse. Castiel released a small noise of pain and Anna wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m so sorry Cassy. I am. I know this isn’t how you wanted it to go, but they’ll come around. You’ll see.”

“But, Gabriel.” He murmured into her hair, almost too quiet for Dean to hear.

“You’re still our nerdy little brother, Castiel, and you always will be. Just give him a chance to calm down.”  
He hugged her tightly and then let go.

“Thanks, Anna.”

She smiled at him, cupping his cheek with her palm. “No problem.” She went to follow Gabriel through the kitchen but managed a small smile in Dean’s direction before disappearing. He sucked in a deep breath and then walked over to Castiel, sliding his hand into the other boys and squeezing.

“Are you ready to go? Ellen will kill us if we are late for dinner.”

Castiel looked up at him gratefully. “Yeah, let me just grab my bag.”

Khaki messenger bag in tow, they set off for Dean’s home.

  
The smell coming from the Havelle-Singer household was heavenly. After the week he had had and the fight with his family, the chaos of Dean’s home was a welcome change of pace. With tutoring and as a by-product of being friends with Dean, it had come to feel like a second home and there were times when he wanted to melt into the warmth. He hadn’t wanted to lie to his family about choosing college over music, even if he did harbor a desire to get a degree. He knew they would be even angrier with him if they found out he lied, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell them because if he did he wouldn’t be able to stop. The idea of other people knowing what really occurred sent a sharp stab of dread and shame. Not to mention that his family or Dean could get hurt. That they knew he was attacked was enough. This was better.

“Cas?”

He snapped out of his thoughts and found himself looking into Dean’s concerned eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Castiel just smiled and dropped his bag next to where he kicked his shoes off in the front entryway and followed Dean into the heart of the house, Ellen’s kitchen. He was greeted with a full smile and a tight embrace from said kitchen’s ruler. It surprised him and he blinked away tears. It really was frustrating how often he caught himself crying as of late but hugs like Ellen’s soothed a hurt he wasn’t even aware of more often than not.

He had hints of the feeling from Anna, but this was different. This was what a mom felt like and with a deep ache he wished he could keep the Winchester-Harvelle-Singer family forever. He quickly wiped his eyes when she pulled away. He needed to work harder on keeping it together or else people would start asking questions and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it from the sharp eyes of his sister or Dean forever.

“I hope you’re hungry, Cas!”

She withdrew fully and his eyes widened at the small feast overtaking the table.

“Wow, Aunt Ellen! This look awesome!” Sam burst into the room followed by Jo whom was warming up to him bit by painstakingly earned bit. Bobby was close behind, going to the sink to wash motor oil and other car related junk off of his hands. Dean laughed from behind him and he fought the urge to turn around and trap the sound with his mouth.

“Jeez, Aunt El, what do I need to do in order to get you to bribe me like this?”

Castiel laughed as the queen of the little family smacked Dean with the wooden spoon she held in her hand.

“Dean Winchester, I am not _bribing_ Castiel, simply going to discuss a business proposition with him.” She smiled sweetly at him and the singer swallowed. He was starting to see why Dean and Sam kept insisting she was terrifying.

They sat down to the best lasagna he had ever put in his mouth and he lost himself in the chatter, trying not to think about how unlikely it was that any of his family besides Anna were likely to be speaking with him anytime soon. About half-way through his meal, the sensation of being in over his head returned when Ellen pushed her plate away folded her arms on the table.

“Now, Cas, Bobby and I both liked the tracks that you gave us for the bar and I wanted to talk to you about hiring your band to play a few nights. You would be paid, like we would any band, and if you blow it, you would be fired the same, just in case you think I am only asking since you and Dean are close.”  
Castiel shifted in his seat, excited for a few moments at the thought of getting the hell out of the basement and into an actual venue but it was brought crashing down at the memory of Gabriel walking out on him. He cleared his throat.

“That’s really awesome Mrs. Harvell, uh, Ellen, but I do not know what is going to happen with the-” He tapered off, caught off guard by her suddenly outstretched hand. Ellen twitched her fingers in a ‘gimme’ gesture and Dean only gave him an amused shrug when he glanced over.  
Bobby coughed.

“She wants your phone, idgit.”

Without thinking about it, he pulled it out and handed it over to her. For all that Dean complained that his family was so confusing, Castiel had to argue that Dean’s could be just as mystifying as he watched Ellen fiddle around with his phone.

That is until she put it to her ear and starting talking.

“Hello? Gabriel? This is Ellen, Dean’s...oh yes. Yes this does mean you are in trouble. Smart boy.”

Castiel jerked and leaned across the table in a futile attempt to grab his phone. When she stood and walked away from the table, he followed.

“Please don’t. Can I have that back?”

Ellen ignored him.

“Yes, I’m just wondering why Castiel seems to think that your band might not be able to perform in the future?” She paused and Castiel could hear Gabriel’s tinny voice coming out but couldn’t understand what he was saying. He knew he looked extremely graceless as he tried to get his phone away from her but chose not to care. His brother not killing him took precedence.

“So you’re upset that your little brother is deciding to get a college degree? Mmhmm. Leaving you all behind, right. Uh hunh. Well Gabe,” Castiel could hear the politeness fade out of her voice. “you need to listen to me, boy, because Castiel is the only brother you’ve got. Yeah you may not be related in the traditional sense, but you all need to stick together and trust that Castiel is doing what he thinks is right. Yes I mean that you have to support his decision and you need to quit your bitching. He is a junior. You still have over a year to work on music before he leaves for college, wherever he chooses to go. Do not destroy your relationship with him just because you’re a selfish brat.”

Castiel stared at her in awe when he heard nothing from the receiver.

“Do you understand?” Her voice was back into pleasant tones. Castiel heard a short burst of sound from his phone and took a step back from Ellen’s pleased grin. No wonder her child and the Winchester brothers were so cowed by her.

“That’s wonderful. I knew you would. Now, what do you kids normally do on Fridays and Saturdays?”

  
The evening later found Dean and Castiel studying in his room (“Yes, Aunt Ellen, the door is open.”) Castiel for his Latin final and Dean working on his last project for Engineering, not that Dean was particularly worried. Devereaux had basically already given him an A for the year simply based on how far ahead of the rest of the class he was. The same went for shop. He could rebuild an engine with his eyes closed. The rest of his classes weren’t quite up that high but he was pretty sure he’d end up with mostly B’s.

He was sure he would owe Castiel his soul by the end of the school year. That unfortunately lead him down the thorny path of thinking about the singer’s future plans. He turned around in his chair, straddling the back of it and resting his arms on the back. Castiel looked up from where he was sprawled on Dean’s bed with his Latin notes and textbook. Dean cleared his throat.

“So college, huh?”

Castiel flinched before meeting his eyes which was all the actual confirmation Dean needed.

“When were you going to tell me?”

“I hadn’t decided. Not about when to tell you or even about what I was thinking of doing.”

“Gabe told me your parents came down hard on you about it but are you really just going to cave like that? I thought the band was, well, it.”

Castiel sighed and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

“You know I do actually want to go to college. I want a degree.  I love performing and my family and I wish there was a way I could do both, but I can’t expect them to just follow me wherever I end up. Its more than my father’s expectations as well.”

“Follow you? No local school I guess.” Dean swallowed, trying to ignore the empty pit that formed in his stomach at the thought of Castiel going too far for him to follow. His friend quickly met his gaze but quickly flicked away.

“There’s this school in Boston.” he said quietly and Dean was sure he was going to be a little sick. “It’s the Berklee College of Music. It’s a small school but I can do what I want there. Maybe major in music business or production. Something so that after graduation, if they forgive me, we can restart the band and not need to rely on other people.” His voice hardened with bitterness briefly, before smoothing out again. “Not that it matters. It costs almost forty grand a year to go and since it’s not Harvard or Yale, there’s no way I’d be able to convince my parents to help pay for it. Or even be able to get in for that matter.” He sat up to look at Dean who just tried to cheer him up with a smile.

“Oh whatever, man. They’ll take you in a heartbeat and I’m sure you’d be able to get some sort of scholarship.” He nudged Castiel’s knee with his own and got a huffed laugh in return.

“We’ll see how Gabriel and the rest feel about it. What about you though? Your GPA is actually respectable,” Castiel dodged the pencil lobbed at him, “and you don’t seem too enamored with Sioux Falls.”

It was Dean’s turn to sigh and stare at his not so very interesting ceiling. “I don’t have a freaking clue. I never even thought I’d graduate. I had actually been planning on dropping out but then those little shits broke Sam’s arm and I wound up here with some nerdy little dude forcing me to give a shit about Hemingway.” It succeeded in winning a smile from Castiel. “But anyways, Sam the college bound kid. He already has his sights set on fancy ivy league schools so he can be a lawyer and save all the innocent people or something.” He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

“Me? I figured I’d just work on cars. Maybe with Bobby.”

“Why not go to college?”

“Maybe. I can’t until Sam graduates though. I can’t just leave th  
e kid after everything, even if he says it’s fine. I mean I know Bobby and Aunt Ellen would take care of him, but I’m incredibly paranoid where that kid is concerned.”

Castiel placed his hand lightly on Dean’s knee.

“I understand.” He sounded supportive but Dean could hear in Castiel’s voice, the same fear he had. _What happens when we graduate and one of us leaves_?

He responded by reaching out and hooking his fingers in the collar of the singer’s shirt and pulled him forward intending to share a quick kiss. It spiraled a little out of control, however, and by the time they separated they were both flushed and Dean’s smile to Castiel was lopsided as hell.

“Well it’s a good thing we still have a year and some change, yeah?”

Castiel matched his smile and then abruptly smacked Dean upside the head with his notebook. “Back to work Winchester. No more kissing until you’re done with the math for your project.”

“Aw, man, come on! A man has needs!”

“I think you will survive. Though the faster you finish the quicker we can get back to it, so maybe there should be less whining and more equating.”

Dean just groaned good-naturedly and got to work, vowing to get back at Castiel the next chance he got.


	13. Chapter 13

When Ellen strolled past Dean’s room, she laughed as she saw Castiel smack Dean on the head and then continued downstairs. Jo had complained about having to go to sleep when the boys were still awake, but the fight didn’t last longer than the five minutes it had taken for her to pass out. She smiled to herself. Life certainly had taken an interesting turn since she and Bobby had convinced Dean and Sam to come live with them. She knew the death of John still weighed heavily on them, having borne witness to more than one fit of nightmares in the last months but she had hope they were finally starting to adjust. She had hated seeing them dragged around the country by their father and was hoping the idea of having a home base would stick.   
  
Especially with Dean, who reminded her of John too much sometimes. She joined her husband in the kitchen, washing the dishes that didn’t make it into the dishwasher. They didn’t say much as they worked side by side, but it wasn’t like it was necessary anymore. A conversation could be held in the shifting of shoulder blades, the cock of a head and their patterns of breathing.   
  
When they finished and she was drying her hands, he leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek and she found herself startled by the school girl laugh that came from her mouth.  She watched him amble to the study and then turned to lift the phone off of it’s base where it was attached to the wall. She cradled it between her ear and shoulder after she dialed and starting to put the dishes away.  
  
“Hey, it’s me. Oh, yeah, it should be on for tomorrow. They had some issues but everything should be back on track if you are still interested in coming out.” She paused, listening for a moment. “Yep. Tomorrow at eight or nine-ish. You remember how to get there, right?” She laughed at the squawk on the other end of the line. “Yeah yeah. Well just stop by the bar. You’ll like it, I think.”  
  
With that she said her goodbyes and placed the receiver back on it’s base. She snagged a beer out of the fridge and brought it to Bobby, sitting on the arm of his oversized chair. When he made to reach for it, she pulled it away and stole a sip before handing it to him.  
  
“Just what are you up to?”  
  
She smiled and flicked the bill of the baseball cap she could not get him to abandon. “Absolutely nothing.”   
  
He snorted and went back to reading the novel Jo had gotten him for Christmas and her smile widened as Dean and Castiel started to get ready to take him home. She wasn’t up to anything at all.   
  


  
Gabriel came through on his end and Castiel found himself somewhat mystified to be prepping sound equipment and running checks the next evening. It had been a bit awkward to go home, especially as apologies were not a Milton strong suit, but he took his siblings acting as if nothing had happened as the peace offering it was meant to be. Anna kept acting like a mothering hen throughout the day but Castiel felt okay. He depended on the chaos of his family to be his ‘norm’ and always felt off course and lost if that was screwed up.   
  
It also helped that Dean was there smiling at him as he helped Ellen handle the extra people by bussing tables. The Roadhouse was packed, word of the shindig having been spread online. It was mostly kids from their high school, which while not Ellen’s normal clientele, she had confessed to be “pleased as punch” to have the place so full.   
  
That was what she told Castiel anyways after pulling him aside to make sure that Gabriel wasn’t still being as ass. He smiled to himself at the memory, again envying Dean and Sam their relationship with the Harvelle-Singers just a little as he helped fix the setup of the drum kit. The place was bustling, students shouting out catcalls and greetings alike. That weird Raphael kid was there for a few minutes but one look from his siblings to Ellen and he was promptly removed, which they celebrated with the downing of a pre-show mostly virgin rum and cokes.   
  
Castiel glanced towards Dean again after making sure he was plugged into an amplifier and that his and Gabriel’s cords wouldn’t tangle. As if sensing it, Dean looked up at the same time and the singer was pretty sure his heart stopped as he was hit with the blinding grin being sent his way. He smiled back until Balthazar and Israfael whistled like construction workers at them and he ducked his head and went back to messing with cords and stands.  
  
Ten minutes later and they were officially ready to start. Castiel worked on his calm. It wasn’t any different than performing in their basement. Really. The set list was full of new work which also amped up his tension as they hadn’t had a chance to practice them. Dean was normally at their rehearsals after tutoring in the afternoons and it wasn’t exactly a secret that the band’s music was largely autobiographical. Rehearsing with the song’s focus in the room wasn’t an option and now that they would be playing them with Dean there was something else. A little like being naked in front of the crowd actually.   
  
He looked back at his family, guitar strap comfortingly resting on his shoulder. He took solace as well in their giddy expressions. With a nod to his cousin the drums started up, pounding out a steady rhythm that quieted the chattering of both students and adult patrons. He began to softly play his guitar, voice joining soon after. Gabriel had his violin and stood close to Anna who was armed with hers as well. Balthazar matched his sister’s playing with his fingers pressing into the piano’s keys.   
  
The song was slower than their normal fare but it achieved what they wanted; the crowds attention. He tried to avoid searching out Dean in the crowd which was harder than it should have been. Instead he focused on his family and “flirting with the fangirls” as Gabriel called it. He felt a little dirty doing it, but they seemed to enjoy themselves. By the time the song ended he had succeeded in only staring at Dean twice. A personal best he was sure.  
  
The second song was faster with Gabriel switching back to his bass and Castiel felt a light sheen of sweat forming on his skin. He felt lighter than he had in months. He still could feel the abuse his body had undergone when he moved too quickly but by the time they were halfway through the third song he had fallen into a groove. Gabriel and Anna had taken vocals and as a unit they were having more fun than normal he thought. Ellen and Bobby kept yelling encouragements while filling drinks at the bar and Castiel felt even better when he gave up on trying to stem his addiction and and happily endured side comments yelled into his ear about “getting some damn protection for all that eye sex happening!”.   
  
They finished the song and he quickly downed a water bottle from the small mountain of them Ellen had provided. He wiped his hands on the jeans he had begged Anna to be able to wear and was bent over speaking with Lisa from his Latin class when a voice cut through the crowd and chilled his blood.  
  
“Ah, Angel. You seem to be enjoying yourself.”  
  
He looked up and froze. It was a nightmare turned real. The breath caught in his lungs. Why was he there?   
Why was he _there_?  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Dean pushing his way through the crowd and felt rather than saw his siblings come up behind him.  
  
“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” Gabriel all but snarled at the interloper.  
  
The smile he received in return was oily and reminded Castiel of a snake. “Aw, how nice to see you as well, Gabe. I simply heard that you guys managed to make it past your basement phase and really, what kind of boyfr-”  
  
“Crowley, enough.” The singer surprised himself with the steel in his voice but it didn’t last as Crowley leaned closer to the stage.  
  
“Oh come now, darling, don’t you think they deserve to know the truth? I mean, I am sure that everyone here,” he raised his voice so it carried to the rest of the restaurant, “wants to know exactly how prettily you moan when I fuck you.”  
  
Memories he had tried hard to stamp down came rushing to the forefront and he felt his breaths coming hard and fast, Anna murmuring something he couldn’t bring himself to understand in his ear, arms around his waist. He knew from the sound level that at least Gabriel was yelling and he came to enough to watch as Dean reached his target and grabbed Crowley’s shoulder to spin him around and punch him. In the background he could see Israfael and Balthazar dodging blows from two of the lackeys whom had come in with his ex, while Anna and Gabriel stayed on the stage.   
  
Without thinking he tried to move forward to keep Crowley from getting to Dean, but Anna’s arms around his torso were like a vise. Logically he knew Dean was an apt brawler and could handle himself but all he could think about was how much it hurt to be on the receiving end of Crowley’s rage as the Scottish boy picked himself up off the floor and lunged at Dean, hitting him square in the stomach with his shoulder. They hit the ground with Crowley on top, managing at least one solid hit, but Dean was able to get his feet up under his attacker and shove him off. Castiel’s heart kicked back in as he saw a flash of red from Dean’s mouth before he was back on Crowley, holding his face by the jaw and yelling at him.  
  
“Don’t you ever come near him or speak to him like that ever! You spineless son of a whore. You even look at him and I will make sure you never see anything again!” He was able to deck Crowley once more before Bobby reached them and hauled him off of the other boy, trapping his arms against his chest in an ‘x’. It didn’t stop Dean from trying to kick at Crowley or stop him from shouting threats at him.  
  
Ellen called for Rufus, a regular of the bar and friend of Bobby’s. Together with a few other men they were able to pull Crowley from the floor and disengage his family members from their tussles as well. Crowley held a handkerchief to his face, trying to stem the blood flow from his nose as Rufus hauled him towards the door. They were summarily thrown out into the parking lot with Ellen coming up behind Rufus with the shotgun she kept under the bar and making it clear that they needed to vacate the premises as quickly as possible.   
  
Crowley went quietly enough, minus turning to leer at Castiel up on the stage and shout out “Just wait, Angel. You won’t always have your guard dog around!”  
  
He shuddered in Anna’s arms but wasn’t able to feel like he could breathe regularly again until it was made clear they had left, despite his sister’s near stranglehold on him. He could see Dean also slowly calming down as Bobby spoke quietly to him and then released him. Castiel appreciated the reassuring smile Dean tried to send his way but it was short lived as he looked around.   
  
Tables were flipped over, students and other patrons alike standing around in the aftermath muttering to one another. Israfael had dragged her brother closer to the bar, dipping a bar towel in a glass of water and then applying it to a gash on Balthazar’s head while he in turn pressed what looked like a towel full of ice against her left eye. When he looked to see Gabriel staring at him, a look of complete fury screwing his face up, he felt an arrow of dread hit him right in the gut. He wasn’t sure if it was purely aimed at him or the knowledge of who had beaten Castiel, but as his brother jumped down from the small stage and stormed out of the door, he felt his hopes that it wasn’t just him sink a little.  
  
Ellen quickly stalked after him, pushing through the door, her husband following her. Castiel sighed. Didn’t get worse than finding out that not only was your little brother dating what amounted to your arch nemesis but that said nemesis had also interrupted their first ‘gig’. Now Castiel supposed he would have to come clean about what had really happened with the record company and ugh. He just wanted to go home and hide but he had to keep it together. They had a few more songs to go before the end of the set and he found himself determined to not let Crowley ruin one more thing for him. Anna finally let him go so he could help pick up the tables that had been overturned in the brawl and make sure their set was still the way it should be. A few people had left, but enough stayed that Castiel was hopeful they could continue playing.  
  
The door to the bar slammed open, Bobby making way for Ellen as she dragged Gabriel back in by the ear. “Jesus, woman what is your problem! She-witch! Hell-spawn! We aren’t your children! You can’t treat me like one!”   
  
She primly ignored him and finally relinquished her hold when they reached the stage. Israfael and Balthazar came bounding back as well, as good natured as if they had been out for a walk, not trading punches with other students. Castiel shook his head and laughed a little at them before Ellen gave him the signal that they could restart whenever. Dean come over briefly before returning to his busboy duties for the night, shoving a torn chunk of napkin into his hand. When unfolded, it simply read “Smile damnitt!”  
  
So he tried. Gabriel had put on enough of his grinning fool mask to convince the crowd to let what had happened go and had them cheering for more music soon after. They finished out their set without any other glitches and the calls for more when they finished helped eased the tension amongst the band members, even earning Castiel a pat on the shoulder from Gabriel. By the time they finished it was closing time, so as people trickled out, they set to packing up their gear and cleaning the bar. While Dean and his family were preoccupied, the Miltons closed in around Castiel.  
  
“So. Crowley, huh?”  
  
Castiel winced and knew that was all the full confirmation they needed. “Yes, but it’s obviously over now.” He said.  
  
Israfael snorted. “Yeah I’d sure as fuck hope so after he beat the shit out of you.” Anna elbowed her in the side hard and glared. Israfael rubbed at the spot and grinned sheepishly at Castiel. “Sorry, sorry. Jesus, Anna, do you purposefully sharpen those things?”  
  
Anna ignored her and one arm hugged her brother. “Well now at least we understand why you went to such lengths to hide him from us.”  
  
“Yeah, jeez, we thought we smelled bad or something.” Israfael laughed. Balthazar grabbed him next and ruffled his hair in a way he knew drove Castiel nuts when they were children.  
  
“Hey, so now that we know who's responsible for making you look like a defective pinata, does that mean we get to kill him?” He sounded a bit too pleased by the idea for Castiel’s comfort level.  
  
“Nah. Cassy here will probably let him know we’re coming since apparently he thought that that piece of scum was more important than us.” Gabriel’s insult cut Castiel deeply. He turned to look at Gabriel who finished packing up his bass. Anna’s glare was back in full force though and she took the steps towards him she needed and pushed him in the chest.  
  
“No fucking wonder he hid Crowley from us with that shitty attitude.”  
  
“Oh come off it Anna. He knew he was a bad guy! He purposefully went out with the one person we told him to stay away from!”  
  
Anna stuck her finger in his face, pointing angrily. “Exactly! You forbid it! You did! Without ever telling him the full story as to why! Why do we have to always follow your lead, Gabriel? Because you’re older? You think you’re smarter? Will you step back and listen to yourself! You sound just  like Father! No wonder he chose to rebel!” With that she shoved him again and then came back to pull Castiel into a bear hug.  
  
“I don’t care if you dated him, Cassy.” She stated fiercely. “You’re still my horribly nerdy little brother and that’s that.” She pulled away from him as Ellen started clapping from the bar where she had been speaking with a blond haired woman that had simply been introduced as a “friend of the family” who was in town for a little bit. Anna had the grace to look embarrassed at her outburst, being known mainly for being the most mature Milton. Gabriel just grumbled.   
  
“I just can’t fucking win. No matter what I do someone rips me a new one!”  
  
His siblings laughed, and Castiel joined in. Balthazar draped an arm over Gabriel’s shoulders. “Well then stop acting like a first class dick and maybe they’ll stop nagging!” He shoved him forward towards Castiel with a chuckle as they did the awkward “Sorry I’m a dick-Sorry I lied” apology tango.   
  
Dean cleared his throat and Castiel glanced at him. “Are we done living in a chick flick yet?” His voice was tired but filled with humor. He handed Gabriel the money Ellen promised them and laughed as Gabriel crowed with excitement.  
  
“Look at that! Money for not sucking!”  
  
Castiel left his family to their revelry as he stepped from the stage and took Dean’s offered hand. He ignored the catcalls they got as Dean made to drag him from the restaurant.  
  
“I’m just taking him home you perverts!” He yelled over his shoulder, causing the singer to blush. As they walked out of the door to the Impala, Castiel took solace in the warmth radiating from Dean’s hand. He was feeling better after being forgiven by his family but Crowley showing up had rattled him badly. Watching Dean be bloodied had only intensified it. He could feel the adrenaline he had denied and the fear wash over him again as he looked up to see the bruises forming on his boyfriend’s cheek and his puffy mouth.   
  
They reached the car and Castiel gave into what he was feeling, surging forward and pinning Dean to the side of the car with his body. He pulled him into a kiss, pressing harder against Dean’s mouth when he gave a small noise of pain from his busted lip. He reached up, carding his fingers through the other boy’s short hair. He startled at the sound of Dean smacking his hands palm down against the side of the car and released him. He felt wetness on his lips and after sliding his fingers over his mouth they came back slick with blood from the cut on Dean’s mouth. He flicked his tongue out to clean his lips but didn’t get far before Dean was on him, lips pressed into his, making Castiel feel as if his skin was about to catch fire. They broke apart after a few minutes, panting for air.  
  
“We should, uh. We should.”  
  
“Take me home?” Castiel supplied.  
  
Dean closed his eyes. “God yes. Get in the car, Cas.”


	14. Chapter 14

It was both the longest, and shortest drive of Castiel’s life. His mouth was tingling and he felt a little high from the roller coaster the night had been. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but before he knew it, they had made out of the car and into his bedroom.  
  
Dean had Castiel pressed up against the door and they were breathing one another’s air. Castiel’s fingers were tugging on the belt loops of the other boy’s jeans. Dean’s hands were on the singer’s shirt, unbuttoning the vest and dress shirt Anna had made him wear, sliding them off his shoulders and onto the floor. He all but ripped Dean’s shirt off of him, mouthing over his neck and shoulders.  
  
When Dean finally rid Castiel of the many layers he had on, Castiel delighted in the feel of skin against skin. Dean put out an incredible amount of heat. It made his memories of being with Crowley seem cold and almost clinical. He and Dean hadn’t had much of a chance to go past kissing as his siblings were always around and Bobby and Ellen frequently checked to make sure they were actually studying. Not to mention his recent inability to be intimate…so when Dean’s fingers, roughened from working on cars, dug into the meat of his shoulders he was a little surprised at the pleased moan that came out of him.  
  
He kneaded his fingertips along Dean’s hips, tipping his head to allow for Dean’s mouth to close over the spot where his neck met his shoulder, his knees going weak at the sensation. He pushed his leg in-between Dean’s thighs and leaned in until they were flush with one another. It didn’t last long, however, as Dean succeeded in undoing Castiel’s pants and pushing them off of his hips and down over his knees.  
  
He watched in petrified awe as Dean kissed his way slowly down Castiel’s chest and stomach, never breaking eye contact. A thread of panic lit in him but he quashed it down. This wasn’t Crowley. It was Dean and Dean was nothing like Crowley. His heart rate dropped from frightened rabbit back down to the excited teenage boy range; which really wasn’t that much of a difference when Dean’s mouth closed hot and wet over his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers.  
  
He paused, green eyes questioning, waiting for a sign of assent. The only things Castiel could do was run his hand through Dean’s hair and pushing him ever-so-gently closer. He could feel Dean’s grin against his pelvis as he mouthed at the fabric, gripping it in his teeth and pulling it down enough to expose the head of Castiel’s cock. Fingers hooked around the top band and tugged the cloth down in tandem with Dean’s tongue flicking playfully over the head. Castiel inhaled sharply and groaned, easing himself back against the door for support.  
  
Dean glanced up but didn’t stop, his hands returning to Castiel’s hips where they played over the planes of his hip bones and the swell of his ass. The sensation of Dean’s tongue running along the length of his dick was almost too much and it only got better when he took him into his mouth in one long slide.  
  
Dean was nothing like Crowley.  
  
For starters he was always moving, sliding his reddened lips tightly along the skin of Castiel’s cock, sucking at the head with a slight, exciting drag of teeth. He used his hands, along with his mouth, stroking along the shaft matching the motions. Not to mention that thing he did in the back of his throat, Castiel’s knees almost gave out with that little surprise.  
  
It didn’t take long before Castiel whined and pulled at Dean’s hair; unable to form more than basic sounds but Dean understood and pulled slowly away, lingering over the head for an extra few seconds. Castiel bent down to meet him halfway with a kiss, fingers cupped under Dean’s jaw. It was sweet and slow when Dean’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him close eliciting a sigh from Castiel. He was so lost in the flurry of heated kisses that he didn’t notice them going backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of his bed and Dean lowered him onto it. He looked up at Dean, leaning over him and pulled him closer by hooking his foot behind Dean’s leg. Dean laced his fingers with Castiel’s and it was okay until he pinned his arms above his head and settled down to continue kissing Castiel.  
  
With that it was simply not okay anymore. He sucked in a few panicked breaths, shook his hands out of Dean’s grasp and shoved, hard, all but throwing Dean from the bed and he scrambled backwards until the head-board’s cold wood pressed into his naked back. His mind blanked for a few precious seconds, pulse skittering wildly and hands trembling.  
  
Dean stood from where he had landed with his hands out and slowly approached Castiel like he was a skittish animal.  
  
“Cas? Cas? Hey.” He moved closer, settling carefully on the edge of the bed. “Hey,” he whispered reaching up to gently cupped Castiel’s cheek and turned his head to look at him. “What’s going on?  Did I do something wrong?”  
  
Castiel met his eyes and then looked away quickly. He felt too vulnerable, too exposed and raw.  
“No. I’m sorry, it’s okay.”  
  
Dean didn’t seem to buy it. “You know if I hurt you, you can tell me, right? I’m not going to be offended.”  
  
Castiel tried to shove down everything he was feeling. He was with Dean, not Crowley. Dean not Crowley. He repeated it to himself. It was just that the weight of Dean’s body holding him down and having his arms pinned was too much. He couldn’t help the sudden claustrophobia.  
  
“Castiel.”  
  
Dean’s concerned tone snapped him back to the present and when he met his eyes again, he could read all of the worry, growing fear, and worst of all the horrified suspicion. He was still gentle when he gripped Castiel’s shoulders.  
  
“Cas, what’s happening here? What are you not telling me?”  
  
God he didn’t want Dean to know. It was bad enough he knew that Castiel wasn’t able to stop the beating, but it was so much worse. He knew it was irrational but he was afraid the truth would disgust Dean. Make him never want to touch him again. He felt broken and worthless; he couldn’t even be intimate with his boyfriend properly. Dean shook him slightly to bring his focus back outwards and Castiel found himself unable to look at him as he cleared his throat and tore the lies apart.

It hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. His breathing quickened and he sucked in air like a drowning man. Castiel stared at him, eyes wide and panicked.  
  
“Dean, wait.” Castiel reached out to grab his hand but Dean stumbled backward and ran for the bathroom. A wave of nausea hit him and he collapsed to his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet.  
  
Oh god...oh god, oh god. Cas...it couldn’t be true...  
  
He still felt like he couldn’t get enough air. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned back to look at Cas, huddled miserably on the bed.  
  
“Please, tell me it’s not true.” Cas didn’t meet his eyes, instead stared down at his hands resting on the sheets.  
  
“Why?” he croaked, “Why didn’t you say anything before now?” Still no answer. “Cas, he deserves to, at least, go to jail if I don’t kill him myself.” Anger was quickly replacing the sheer anxiety. Seeing his boyfriend’s shaking frame, his fury rose hot in his chest. He stood, pulled on his shirt and jeans and made for the door. He heard the rustle of sheets and a thud as Castiel jumped off the bed and scrambled after him.  
  
“Dean, no! You can’t!” He stopped cold and turned slowly to face Castiel. Some of the bruises weren’t completely healed, still mottling his skin with sickly looking splotches, more reminders of Crowley.  
  
“I can’t? No, Cas, no. This is nuts! He _raped_ you!” It hurt to watch Castiel flinch and stare at the ground. He moved forward and cupped Castiel’s face in his hands, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Baby, please...” He pleaded with Castiel. “He hurt you. Badly. He should have been punished for the beating. This is...this is just.” Nausea rolled his stomach again and Castiel’s eyes filled with tears. “You have to let me do this.”  
  
“I can’t,” he whispered. Dean recoiled as if struck.  
  
 _Oh god_.  
  
“You-you’re telling me you still love him?”  
  
 _Not me_.  
  
He dropped his arms to his sides as the world shifted out of place.  
  
“Dean, no. That’s not-” He shuddered, “I didn’t say that.”  
  
“No, but I can see it in your face! How can you still feel that way?! He’s a monster, Cas. He deserves to be put down. I don’t understand.” The tears spilled down Castiel’s cheeks.  
  
“It’s not something that I can just turn off, Dean. You have to understand that.” He made an abortive attempt to reach for Dean but paused at how tensely Dean was standing.  
  
“So, after all this,” he gestured between them. “After us, you would still pick the guy who treated you like shit, beat you, and raped you?” Dean could hear his own tears thickening his voice. “You would still pick that bastard, over me?” God it hurt so badly. Every breath was like swallowing acid. How could he have been so stupid? He should have known Castiel would never pick him. He should have known. He was just the new kid. He was just something new, different, a fling. He couldn’t possibly mean enough to Castiel that he would matter more. He laughed bitterly and Castiel cringed again.  
  
What did it say that Castiel would pick an abusive rapist over him? He laughed again, feeling as if his body was ripping apart at the seams.  
  
“Am I just a rebound to you? Is that it?” He spit out the words.  
  
“No!” Cas sobbed, “Dean...stop...” Castiel sounded far too distant in Dean’s head. He could hear the pain and the effect his meltdown was having on him but he couldn’t stop. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. Christ he was stupid, so stupid to think that this was more than a fling to Cas. He had rebounded after girlfriends before. He felt sick, being on the other side. He sucked in a few deep breaths and straightened, turning back to face the door. He stared at it, sheer will disguising the agony he was feeling.  
  
“It’s okay, Cas. I get it. It’s fine. I just...let myself get carried away with thinking this was something it’s not.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping away tracks left by tears so Castiel wouldn’t see them and tossed an empty smile over his shoulder. He pulled open the door; before he could leave Castiel’s arm shot past him and slammed the door shut.  
  
“You goddamn idiot.” Castiel growled from his left, “Would you listen to me for a second?” Dean stayed in place; hand still on the doorknob. “You want me to hate him, I get that. I _do_ hate him, part of me.”  
  
“Part?!” He turned back to Castiel, hands balled into fists at his sides. “A guy like that deserves to be locked away for a long while, Cas. That’s how you should feel! You shouldn’t be protecting him!” The hot edge of edge pushed away his tears. Anger he was familiar with. Anger he could handle.  
  
“I’m not-“  
  
“You are! If you’re not then let me go deal with him, right now!”  
  
“Jesus, Dean, you don’t understand!” Arms encircled his waist, holding him in place and he felt Castiel’s forehead press against his shoulders. “You goddamn idiot. Would you listen to me for a second?” The broken whisper cut through his façade, and made his chest feel tight. “I hate him. Part of me hates myself, too, for letting him do this, for not trying hard enough to fight him. But part of me can’t help but care about him, that’s the part that I need you to understand.” All of this came out in a rush between shuddering breaths.  
  
“None of this changes how I feel about you. God, Dean, I’m so messed up. I’m sorry.” Dean’s breath came out slow and shallow, trying to fight the constricting feeling that had moved up to his throat as the tears threatened again. “I didn’t want you to get dragged into this…I just…you were so…I wanted to _know_ you.”  
  
“You’re not messed up.” Dean whispered back, willing his voice not to crack on the words.  
  
“I am. He messed me up bad…” Dean turned around in the circle of Castiel’s arms so that he could see his face. Cas looked at him, blue eyes earnest. “This isn’t just ‘ _something_ ’, Dean. This is important. You’re important.” He paused, eyes searching Dean’s face for some kind of understanding. “I…don’t know what this is or what’s going to happen, but I like it. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have made it this far. It’s not simple and sometimes it’s still hard, but I wouldn’t…I don’t want it to change because I’m a mess.” The tears Dean had been fighting finally overwhelmed him again.  
  
“Cas…”  
  
“Look, I guess what I’m trying to say is that even though I’m so emotionally fucked up right now, I’m not stopping you for him. I’m stopping you for me. I just want to be done with this, and that’s what I’m trying to do.”  
  
“Cas.” Castiel looked up at him again, confusion written plainly on his face.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter.”  
  
“Yes it _does_ , Dean. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s all-“ Dean cupped his face in his hands, quieting Castiel.  
  
“It _doesn’t_ matter. Put it plainly, how do you feel?”  
  
He was quiet for a second before he responded. Dean could see him weighing his emotions. “Terrified.”  
  
“Of what?”  
  
“That you’ll leave.” Dean sighed.  
  
“Someone has to take care of this, Cas, and I would rather it was me. That bastard isn’t going to get away with hurting you.”  
  
“But why does _that_ matter so much? Why can’t you just leave it alone? It’s over and done with.”  
  
Dean managed a smile, “Because, for some crazy reason, I think I’m in love with you. And that’s what you do for people you love. You fix things, you make them better.” As the words left him he felt like he’d finally been freed from a great weight. Castiel stared up at him in silence, why wasn’t he saying anything? Panic shot through him, what if he’d just made a fool of himself? What if he was right about Cas never feeling the same way about him? He’d said it wasn’t just “some thing” but that didn’t mean _love_. God, _seriously_?  
  
“You...love me?” Forget it. It is what it is, regardless of the answer.  
  
“Yes.” It was that simple.  
  
“You shouldn’t...”  
  
“Yeah, well, it’s a little late for that.” A small smile played at the corners of Castiel’s mouth.  
  
“This is terrible timing...”  
  
“I never claimed to be impeccable.”  
  
“Oh, shut up, Dean.” Despite the frustration in his tone, Castiel’s smile was full fledged now.  
  
“Not until I get an answer.”  
  
“I think I might love you too.” Dean grinned, leaning in to kiss Castiel deeply.  
  
“I’m glad you said that.”

  
The fire laps at his skin, the thick black smoke invading his mouth and lungs. He chokes on it as it burns out his voice and he cries, trying to carry the heavy weight of his little brother through the walls of fire and out into the cold yard. He can’t make any sound, but he screams anyways, calling for a mother who can’t be saved. His vision is a blur of orange and black, the fire shifting, and he is fifteen again, breaking down a rotting door with the butt of a fire extinguisher, yelling for his dad. The wood sticks in his hands as it splinters and gives way beneath the metal. He’s pushing through the flames, spraying as wide of a path as possible when he hears the gunshot, breaks through to a living room, and sees blood pumping from in between his Dad’s fingers as he clutches his chest. Dean stares, frozen, his mom’s killer and now dad’s killer is smiling, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
Azazel.  
  
 _Azazelazazelazazelazazelazazel._  
  
The name is crawling through his brain and out of his mouth and the serial killer’s laugh rings in his ears. A flash of silver and a hole appears in the middle of the arsonist’s head, and when he turns to look at Dean, he can see clear through to the flames licking the walls behind him. For a terrible, hideous moment, he continues to laugh, brain matter dripping down his skin before he reaches for Dean. He closes his eyes in revulsion and when he opens them he is again on a front lawn as a house burns behind him. He is covered in John Winchester’s blood, his hands gripping at his dad’s favorite leather coat, sirens and lights filling all the space in his head.  
  
When the noise clears, Dean is sitting in the Impala next to 12-year-old Sammy, Dean’s new driver’s license between them, and the last call from their case worker yelling at them for not checking in with their foster parents fading. Time is distorted, Sam flicking from 11 to 14, hair and clothing changing too fast for Dean to follow and he cries out for his brother to just give him more time, but it’s useless and inevitably he ends up with Sam’s screams in his ears as he rounds a corner to watch a group of kids kicking him, and the final stomp on his arm, and the sickening snap of bone.  
  
Doctors and nurses fill his vision, ripping a pale and writhing Sam out of his arms.  
  
 _Where are your parents?_  
  
 _How are you paying for this?_  
  
 _Where is your dad, kid?_  
  
 _How did this happen?_  
  
 _What is your address?_  
  
 _WHY AREN’T YOUR PARENTS HERE?_  
  
His scalp stings and he knows he’s been tearing at his hair, eyes red and burning as if the fires are trapped inside of his body now.  
  
 _Dean, where are your parents?_  
  
 _Why are you alone?_  
  
 _How could you let this happen?_  
  
He doesn’t know. Where are Bobby and Ellen? They were here. They are supposed to be there to save them. Dean whips around, eyes scouring the mass pressing in on him for a ball cap, or long brown hair as the faceless doctors continue to shriek at him.  
  
“I don’t know! I don’t know why we are alone!” He yells, eyes shut, slamming his hands over his ears to just keep the noise out, but the sounds when he removes his hands are infinitely worse and he fights to keep the bile down.  
  
He knows what’s coming before he even turns around and he whimpers at the sight of Castiel, stretched out on a gurney in the middle of the deserted emergency room, Crowley standing over him. Castiel’s fingers claw at the larger hands squeezing firmly around his throat. Blood seeps from his mouth, the wet bubbling breathy noises deafening Dean.  
  
His face is so swollen and his naked body is littered with bruises and gashes and his body looks as if the bones are no longer whole. Castiel turns his head to look at Dean before Crowley’s hands tighten even more. Dean steps back, lost and horrified, as Castiel smiles and reaches a misshapen arm towards him, beckoning, but Dean can’t escape, he can’t run away, and the light fades from Castiel’s eyes as his blood pools on the floor.  
  
Dean screams.

Dean woke with a start, eyes wide and startled, gasping quietly for breath. In his disoriented just-sleeping state he couldn’t remember where he was, staring at a ceiling not his own. A rustle of sheets next to him pulled his eyes to Castiel’s sleep relaxed face. The morning sun peaking through the windows lightened the boy’s hair, picking out the warmer tones, and his face looked far less troubled than it had the night before.  
  
He softly ran his fingers through dark hair and leaned in to kiss Castiel’s forehead lightly before rolling onto his back again and scrubbing at his face. He hadn’t had any nightmares in several weeks and was starting to get used to uninterrupted sleep. He felt the same dull ache that he associated with thoughts of his father, but it was made worse by Castiel’s confession the night before. He fought down the swell of rage he felt pushing to the forefront of his mind. Too many people he cared about were being hurt; he’d be damned if he was going to just sit back and not doing something about Crowley.  
  
He heard Castiel mutter something in his sleep and watched his forehead crease with concern. Dean reached out to smooth the lines, sliding closer to the other boy, pleased when Castiel latched onto him, tangling their limb together. Blue eyes opened into heavy-lidded slits before settling back down with his head resting against Dean’s shoulder and his breathing slowed again. Dean smiled to himself, pressing his nose to the top of Castiel’s head. This was something that he could get used to.  
  
An audible growl of his stomach broke the comfortable quiet, reminding Dean that it was breakfast time and one simple does not miss such a wonderful meal. He warred with himself, stay in a warm soft bed with Castiel or go find something to eat? Another, slightly louder, growl made the decision for him; he could always come back after a quick snack. He slowly untangled his limbs from the other boy’s and slid out of bed, slipping into his jeans and tee. He checked his phone once out in the hall to find a text promising all sorts of unpleasantness from Ellen when he got home for staying out all night. He sent her a quick apology, knowing it wouldn’t be enough. Whatever, she had a massive soft spot for Castiel that Dean wasn’t above using against her. Cas _had_ needed him after Crowley’s interruption; Ellen just didn’t need to know it what way.  
  
When he rounded the corner into the kitchen he was greeted with wide-eyed stares from the rest of Castiel’s family situated around the center island. The counter itself was covered in a mess of papers interrupted by a massive plate of waffles and other food items. “Am I interrupting something?”  
  
Gabriel grabbed a waffle from the plate and drizzled a disgusting amount of syrup on top of it, and Dean loved syrup. “Nope, just plotting.” He grinned manically before taking a bite.  
  
The matching smiles on the other’s faces reminded Dean of a pack of wolves. Even Anna’s sharp grin was unsettling. He gave them a slow nod and headed straight for the coffee machine. If this was about what he thought it was he was going to need coffee, and lots of it. When he turned back to the others Anna was holding a plate of waffles out to him.  
  
“So, what have you got on Crowley so far?”  
  
“What the hell makes you think you’re invited along, Kansas?” Balthazar asked, arching an imperial brow. Israfael lobbed a wadded up paper at his face.  
  
“Oh, bite it, Balth! He’s just as involved as any of us. More so, since I don’t see you offering to suck face with Cassy anytime soon.”  
  
“Such a same too. Wasted on this uncouth barbarian…” Dean chose to ignore the comment; he was starting to acclimate to the Milton’s and their constant need to get under his skin. He devoured his waffles while listening to them bandy ideas about, ranging from hacking the computer system and plummeting all of Crowley’s grades to burning down his house, or holding his evil mutt of a dog for ransom. It was all well and good, minus the house burning, but Dean noticed a flaw in their plotting.  
  
“Are you just going to focus on Crowley?” Every eye in the room turned on him.  
  
“Do you see anyone else responsible here?” Gabe asked.  
  
“No, no. I mean, Crowley has some evil empire or something, right?” The Milton’s nodded at him. “Well how does he do it? He does he keep perfect grades in classes that he never attends? I have first hour with him and I think he’s missed at least half of it. How does he supply the school stoners like Andy, but never get caught? Cas can’t be the first person he’s hurt either.” He could see them mulling it over. Anna was the first one to speak.  
  
“Well it has to do with his father, yeah? He’s a big time criminal defense lawyer that everyone thinks is linked to one of the bigger mob families out of Chicago. I would imagine that is enough of a threat?”  
  
“It isn’t.”  
  
As a group they whipped their heads around to stare at the staircase where a sleep-mussed Castiel stood.  
  
“Well, fuck.” Gabriel muttered; Anna elbowed him sharply. Dean sent Castiel an apologetic shrug as he moved to sit at the counter next to him. When he leaned against him and rested his chin on Dean’s shoulder, he figured he was forgiven for plotting with his family.  
  
“How do you know it isn’t just hid father?” Anna inquired.  
  
“I don’t, not one hundred percent. He tried to keep me out of that part of his life for the most part, but I’m not an idiot. Despite what everyone else seems to think.” The soft inflection of anger in his voice made the rest of the group flinch slightly. “Alistair and Brady would interrupt dates sometimes with reports, like some damn mob boss. And if you haven’t noticed, the teachers tend to avoid him at all costs.”  
  
Gabriel grunted, “And you only _now_ decided that maybe he wasn’t a good guy to be dating? No, we don’t think you’re an idiot, Cassy, but Jesus you sure are stupid.”  
  
Castiel flushed and stared at the floor, and Dean could see the sheen of liquid forming along his eyelid.  
  
“Don’t be such a dick, Gabe.” Dean snapped in Castiel’s defense. Tension so thick it was palpable filled the air between the two boys as they glared each other down.  
  
“So what exactly are you planning on doing, or is this just a chance to discuss my poor decision making?” Castiel asked after clearing his throat.  
  
“I do think that we are plotting the tear down of Crowley’s tower of Babel.” Balthazar’s grin was sharp and wolf-like.  
  
“What’s to stop him from just coming after us in response?”  
  
“We were thinking permanently, Cas.” Dean shoved his plate away, wiped clean of food. “What is going to stop his stupid thugs from just taking his place? I mean we can take out Crowley, but we will just leave an opening for one of them.”  
  
“It would, in theory, work better if you cut out Crowley’s support first, actually. Take out Brady and Alistair.“ He paused. “The timing has to be perfect though. Once Crowley finds out, he will be gone. He has his father’s funds available to him. We can’t give him the time to make his own plans.”  
  
“We? Are you so sure you won’t go running to him and let him know what we are doing, Cassy.” Gabriel sniped.  
  
“No, he needs to be taken care of. On that we can agree.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

In the end it took a lot of preparation, though Castiel supposed that that’s how most coup d’états worked.  The first dominos tipped were the teachers and administration at the school. Gabriel had struck up a probably terrible-for-everyone-else friendship with Ash after their gigs and the Thanksgiving at the Harvelle-Singer’s, but it had proven helpful in uncovering just what dirt Crowley had on the school’s staff.  Some of it seemed rather minor but a few made the singer’s stomach turn. Still, it was needed in the long run. Convincing any of them to give Crowley up and potentially take the fall for hiding his sins was not easy.  
  
Luckily, that was where Sheriff Mills, a friend of Ellen and Bobby’s, came into play. Dean had convinced the Milton’s to go to her with their concerns. The discussions that followed about ‘taking the law into their own hands’ were long but in the end, she backed them. Castiel had stayed behind to express her gratitude, but bolted quickly when she had looked too closely at him. They were able to give the teachers an out on the offenses they were being blackmailed for, as long as they came forward. It was more than they had hoped to get and had a handful of teachers ready to go.  
  
He couldn’t help but feel a little miffed that it was Anna, Israfael, and he in charge of getting the teachers to fold. Despite the oh-so-cliché high five they had shared when they finally succeeded, he had wanted to be involved in the planning of bigger events. Though, he had to concede that when it came to the rest of his family or Dean, the three of them did have the better grades and reputations. Dean also had a point that if it were any of them it probably would have taken much longer than a week to flush out the teachers and staff.  
  
Now, Castiel supposed, it was all water under the bridge. All that was left now was the removal of Crowley’s “number two’s” and Crowley himself. The idea was fine in theory, but whenever Castiel actually thought about it, his stomach would clench and he would find himself in front of a toilet, nausea threatening to overcome him. He knew Crowley posed a serious threat to not only him but also the people he cared about but even seeing him from a distance in the hallways filled him with a sick dread. He was trying to force himself to get over what had happened but it was just so hard. Dean was being so careful with him, making sure not to push him in anyway that made him uncomfortable, but it was frustrating to Castiel that he couldn’t get as close to him as he wanted without flinching from Dean’s touch.  
  
He knew that he should go to the Sheriff about what had been done to him. The beating alone would have him in trouble, not to mention the other things, but the hot burn of shame he felt at even considering it convinced him otherwise. What would his family think? All of those years of fencing and other martial arts and he couldn’t defend himself properly. It was just too much and thinking about it just made him want to sleep constantly. It was enough that Dean knew, right? Even if he felt green eyes boring into him whenever they would meet with his family to discuss how to really nail Crowley to a proverbial cross, as worries built that the grade cover-ups and Alistair and Brady would not be enough to keep him away. It didn’t matter. Castiel could barely admit it to himself, let alone see it in the all too knowing eyes of the sheriff. It did, however, spark an idea in his head and he scrolled through his phone to the “M”s and pressed send. ”Hello? This is Castiel Milton, I was wondering if you wanted to meet and talk?”  
  


  
Waiting in Dregs did not do much to soothe his nerves, but it was not Crowley he was waiting for this time. When he heard the jingle of the door’s bell as it opened, he stood and smiled slightly at the pretty brunette that walked through. He had spoken with Madison briefly in class about the cheating, but neither wanted to dwell on it too much at the time. He raised his eyebrows in surprise when two other girls followed her inside, even more so when he realized he did not recognize them. He reached out to shake her hand and the hands of the girls behind her and couldn’t help but smiling more fully when Madison laughed.  
  
“This feels so formal, Castiel. We aren’t here for a business meeting.” Her smiled dimmed a little when he flinched. “Or are we?”  
  
“This is not necessarily a social call, no. I apologize.”  
  
“Yeah, I didn’t really think so, but a girl can hope, yeah? ”After they slid into their booth and placed drink orders with a magically appearing Pamela, Madison cleared her throat.  
  
“So I had a feeling that this was going to be about a certain male douchebag we know, so I thought that you might like to meet these two. This is Harper” the girl with curly blonde hair nodded, “and this is Spencer.” The other girl, with short punk styled red hair, smiled at him and went to sip her tea.  
  
“You see, when we had our little run in, I thought that maybe it wasn’t just you or me. Lo and behold, I was right.”  
  
Castiel smiled ruefully. He wasn’t surprised to know that Madison was not an isolated case, but it he was surprised at it didn’t sting nearly as much as he anticipated it would.  
  
“Well you’re assumptions were right. I was hoping to discuss Crowley, but I was mainly wondering if you could tell me if...was there ever any...” He trailed off, looking at the paintings on the walls, rather than at any of the girls.  
  
“If there was any abuse?”  
  
“If he hit us?”  
  
“If he was violent?” He snapped his gaze back to Madison and she scowled, the other girls matching her expression. “Actually, he was the picture of gentlemanly until you stumbled on us. I freaked out at him for cheating on me, not realizing I was the other woman, ha. But anyways, I told him he could go to hell and he smacked me. Hard. So I left. I’m not his to do with whatever he wants.” Madison’s bitter tone had a backbone of strength behind it and Castiel found himself admiring her.  
  
“He left bruises all over my arms when I told him that I had found someone else. It was never more than that though, and a week later he dumped me anyways.” Harper shrugged.  
  
“He hit me before we were going to have sex, and when I decided that I was done and I didn’t want to do that, he choked me until I passed out. It was terrifying. ”Spencer’s voice shook and Castiel’s heart broke for each of them, but it stiffened his resolve. He startled slightly as he felt Madison take his hands into hers from across the table. The sympathy in her eyes brought an annoying ever-present sheen of tears to his eyes. He pulled his hands away and laughed, blinking them away.  
  
“I’m sorry, my eyes must be dry.”  
  
Madison scoffed. “Castiel Milton. You wouldn’t be here, asking these questions, unless you could relate. You don’t have to tell us what he did, but don’t insult us by not being honest, at least with yourself.”  
Castiel coughed and smiled slightly at her.  
  
“You’re right, and I did want to talk for a reason. I need your help with something, if you are willing to give it.”  
  
With nods from the girls and feeling just a little lighter than he had in a while, they put their heads together and the second round of planning started.  
  


  
“I’m going to puke.”  
  
Dean laughed and slapped Andy Gallagher on the back. “You’ll be fine! I mean really how many times have you done this before?”  
  
Andy whined loudly and pointed to Sheriff Mills who was standing a few feet away with Gabriel and Balthazar Milton. She turned her head and with an exaggerated sigh, made a show of covering her ears and turned back to positioning her deputies around the back of the school so they wouldn’t be seen.  
  
Dean laughed again and reminded himself again to thank Bobby and Ellen for connecting them with Jody. His nerves were shot and after two weeks of almost constant plotting, he was exhausted. He fidgeted with his phone in his hands, sending Castiel a quick text and smiling when he received one in return. He tucked his phone back in his pocket and went back to convincing Andy that he was not going to puke or be murdered in his sleep. The tension level skyrocketed as a crappy preset ringtone sounded from his classmate’s phone.  
  
“Uh, hello? Mm, yeah in the normal spot. Yeah behind the library. See you in a few.” Andy’s face was a sickly shade of green when he hung up and the scene burst into a controlled chaos as Dean and the Milton’s booked it back to the police cruiser where Jody had threatened indefinite jail time if they were not there. The other officers and Sheriff Mills took position as well, out of sight.  
  
Dean rubbed sweaty palms on the legs of his jeans and peered through the windshield. As much time as they spent goofing off and what not; Dean was mollified by the near silence coming from Gabriel and Balthazar in the backseat of the cruiser. His heart rate sped up as Brady’s douchey new Camaro pulled into the driveway and up next to where Andy was nervously twitching against his beat up sedan. He knew that they had been over the plan with Sheriff Mills what felt like a thousand times but he was still preparing for the worst. Neither Alistair nor Brady was as clever as Crowley but they weren’t idiots either, unfortunately. He felt as if he were being deafened by Gabriel tapping out an anxious pace with his fingertips against the door.  
  
“They’re here.” He whispered, even though he knew there was no way for them to be heard.  
  
“ _Merde_. I don’t think I’m cut out for spy work, boys. This is far too ulcer-inciting for me.” Balthazar chuckled and sat forward to see what he could from the back seat.  
  
Alistair and Brady had stepped out of the car and Dean pitied Andy. He knew he had bought drugs from them before, but Dean was just a little concerned that Andy would pass out by how pale he seemed in the school’s security lighting.  
  
“Oh shit, shit, they’re going for it!” Gabriel breathed, excitedly, while Dean simply stopped breathing. He watched as Andy handed Alistair the money and Brady handed him a small, unassuming, plastic baggy in motions that were so smooth it was nothing but routine.  When Balthazar slammed his hand on the cage in excitement, Dean startled and cursed loudly as his hand came down on the switch for the cruiser’s lights and siren. He rushed to turn it off, and in the resulting darkness, saw the shape of Sheriff Mills and her officers move towards the duo, with their hands up. Gabriel and Balthazar scrambled out of the car as soon as they saw their arms cuffed behind their backs and Dean was quick to follow.  
  
Dean found himself next to Andy, skidding to a halt and responding to the high five thrown his way.  
  
“You know, Dean-o,” Alistair’s lilting voice made Dean’s skin crawl. He didn’t have much interaction with the guy, but even in the hallways he was creepier than fuck. “I wouldn’t celebrate too much. Crowley will find out and we’ll skip this, and then I think we could be the best of friends.”  
  
Dean turned to look at the two figures being guided into the back of another cruiser that had pulled up by the student’s cars and grinned.  
  
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”  
  
With that, he turned his head to see Gabriel wiggle his fingers in a small wave at the cruiser and Dean smiled. On the way back to the Milton’s house to drop his two cohorts off, he listened with one ear as Jody ripped them all new ones for almost blowing their bust but messing around in her cruiser.  
  
“I knew you kids coming along was going to be nothing but trouble. Trouble. But no, I thought I would be nice and I would help you out and Bobby and Ellen swore you were responsible!”  
  
She continued to rant, though it had a level of affection he wasn’t sure they deserved. His fingers were tracing figure eights on his thighs, adrenaline from the bust still running its course through his system. He was running through the plan to deal with Crowley the following morning and worrying that whatever they had on him wasn’t enough. He knew the teacher scam would get Castiel’s douche of an ex expelled at the least, and hopefully it would be enough, but he wanted blood if he was honest with himself. Alistair’s words echoed in his head and while he wasn’t worried for his sake, it still lent a feeling of unease to his thoughts.  
  


  
Arriving back at the station after sending Balthazar and Gabriel on their way, so he could retrieve the Impala, Dean was surprised to see a small gathering of three girls waiting just inside the doors.  
  
“Hey, Madison, right?”  
  
The pretty brunette smiled at the curiosity in his voice. “Hello, Dean. Castiel should be out of the bathroom in a minute.”  
  
Dean blinked. “Cas is here?”  
  
Madison blinked back and then flushed. “Uh, not if he isn’t supposed to be? Did he not tell you?”  
  
Dean barely heard her as he slid past the girls and Sheriff Mills, who had stopped to talk to them, on his way to the men’s restroom. The room was silent and cold, the noise from the officers outside muted. He rounded the corner to where the solitary stall was.  
  
“Cas?” The sound of shuffling reached his ears but when he received no response he tried again, spotting his friend’s shape under the stall door.  
  
“Castiel?”  
  
“Dean?”  
  
Dean grimaced at the bathroom’s floor but slid his back down the wall to sit cross-legged next to the stall door. “Are you okay?”  
  
A soft chuckle came from the other side. “No, but better soon. Hopefully.”  
  
Dean smiled as he looked down to see a hand reaching for his and slid his hand under the door for Castiel to grab. Whatever. He could deal with feeling like a girl if it got his boyfriend out of a dirty bathroom.  
  
“So, why are you down in the dumps?” He coughed to hide his laugh at his terrible pun and could hear a muffled groan from the other side of the door.  
  
“You told me you were going to meet with Madison, but I didn’t think I would find her, or you, here with some other girls?”  
  
He heard Castiel sigh. “Those are the other people, that I know of anyways, that Crowley cheated on me with.”  
  
Dean tried to connect the dots but still felt like he was missing something. “As far as I know, cheating sucks but it isn’t illegal?”  
  
Castiel sighed and Dean could hear hints of the roughness caused by vomiting in his voice.  
  
“It would seem I am not the only one that he’s hurt.”  
  
“Are you saying that bastard...” Dean’s fists clenched involuntarily.  
  
“No. Not that. I guess for that I was the lucky one.” The bitterness seeped through the stall door to Dean and he squeezed Castiel’s hand a little.  
  
“Dean?” Castiel questioned after a few beats of silence.  
  
“Are you going to tell Jody about what happened or just the beating?” Dean listened as his the singer sucked in a steadying breath.  
  
“All of it. You were right. He needs to be stopped and maybe this will stop me from feeling so disgusting.”  
  
“Hey now,” Dean tugged on Castiel’s hand and then let go and stood. “Would you come out of there, please?”  
The door opened shortly afterward and Castiel emerged looking pale but determined. Dean cupped his cheeks and leaned in to press a brief kiss on his forehead.  
  
“Dean? Will you come with me?”  
  
“Duh. You’re not doing this alone. Let’s go.” Dean smiled into Castiel’s hair and then pulled him towards the door as more dominos tipped over.


	16. Chapter 16

The warmth enfolding Castiel was as stifling as it was comforting. Slowly, he opened his eyes and was greeted with the sight of Dean’s leanly muscled arms wrapped around him and his face relaxed with sleep. He could feel his snores reverberating through his chest as Dean’s arms tightened around him. His eyes felt dry and sore and his mouth tasted like something had died in it.  
  
They had been up with the sheriff for hours, each girl and Castiel giving statements and the paperwork had been seemingly endless, especially after he remembered the towel he had thrown under the sink. Sheriff Mills had sent a deputy to collect it. It had been terrifying and overwhelming to tell more people about what had happened, but he found that once he started opening up, the words spilled out leaving him feeling lighter and empty. Mills’ gentle questioning helped him keep talking while Dean’s hand firmly clasped in his kept him grounded when he felt like he was falling apart.  
  
He pressed a series of kisses along Dean’s neck and jaw in a gentle attempt to wake the boy in question. Dean grunted in response and shifted, pulling Castiel closer, and kissed his forehead none to gently.  
  
“Dean, we have to get up.” Castiel nudged at his arms, trying half-heartedly to loosen himself from their grasp.  
  
“Not yet.” Dean grumbled, tugging the blankets tighter around them. Castiel sighed as Dean’s hands slid up and down his back.  
  
“Yes, now. We have things to do.” Dean groaned again but let him go.  
  
“Are you okay?” Dean asked as Castiel slid out of bed and began rooting through drawers for clothes. The smile he threw over his shoulder was lopsided and forced.  
  
“No, but the sooner we get this over with the sooner I can be.” He heard Dean rustling around in the blankets as he turned back to his dresser. Dean planted a kiss on his cheek before heading into the bathroom.  
  
“Yeah, let’s get this over with.”  
  


  
The May morning was chilly, still too early in the year for the air to warm up at any decent hour. The high school was filling quickly, students milling about on their usual morning tasks, without a clue as to what was about to happen. Castiel envied their ignorance a bit. His family stood around him, as did Sam and his friend Jess. He stood with Dean a few feet away from Sheriff Mills.  
  
Castiel felt as if he was floating, tethered to the earth only by the contact between his arm and Dean’s, and everything lacked the feeling of reality. This was it. The plan was to let Jody and her officers handle it and arrest Crowley, Castiel was okay with that decision. His stomach threatened to rebel as Crowley’s Aston Martin pulled into the parking lot. He felt Dean’s warmth at his back as the other boy moved closer to him, steadying him. He turned his head to look at him and play it as nonchalant as he could manage as Mills and her officers moved forward, their stance making it clear they were there for a reason. Crowley sauntered up to the sheriff, all slick and charm.  
  
“Good morning, Sheriff. How is business, protecting this fine city from riff-raff? You seem to do such a fine job, except you missed a few.” He glanced over toward the Milton’s, his eyes lingering on Castiel. He shifted uncomfortably, leaning back into Dean and trying to fight off the way his skin crawled under Crowley’s gaze.  
  
With that, Crowley tried to move around her. The smile quickly slid from his face as his eyes swept over Castiel and his group again and several of the teachers and the principal milling about. Castiel tensed at the suspicion that clouded Crowley’s expression as his ex-boyfriend pulled his cellphone from his pocket and dialed. At no response he dialed again and then angrily shoved his phone into his pocket. Castiel could feel the panic rising but Dean slipped his hand into Castiel’s and it helped to calm him.  
  
Crowley laughed as Sheriff Mills pulled handcuffs from her belt. “Now, now, just what exactly is this about?”  
  
“Fergus Crowley, I need you to come with down to the police station with me.”  
  
“Mmm, I’m not sure I want to.”  
  
Sheriff Mills stepped closer. “Fergus Crowley you are accused of blackmail, the sale and distribution of drugs to minors-”  
  
Crowley scoffed, cutting Mills off. “All baseless accusations.”  
  
The sheriff continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “You are also under arrest for several accounts of battery in addition to sexual assault and rape.”  
  
Crowley’s face darkened. “Is that so?”  
  
Castiel cringed, taking a small step backwards, but did his best to keep his face emotionless as Crowley whipped to glare at him before turning back to smile at Mills.  
  
“I think that sounds like a desperate attempt to get back at me for dumping some dead weight a few weeks back.”  
  
“Bullshit!” The curse exploded like a gunshot from Dean’s mouth and before Castiel could blink, Dean was storming across the grass towards Crowley. “You’re a monster and everyone knows it!”  
  
Crowley quirked an eyebrow and stared down at Dean as if he were the scum on the bottom of his Italian loafers and Castiel felt the stirrings of a rage he had been shoving down for weeks. He moved closer to Dean and Crowley, their argument drawing the attention of every student outside of the school.  
  
“Don’t be so upset, Winchester. I know he’s decent in bed but you shouldn’t let a whore get so far under your skin like that.”  
  
A rush of adrenaline roared through Castiel and he dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. Dean let out a low growl as Castiel neared them. “You’re a sick son of a bitch, Crowley. Enjoy your rot in hell.”  
  
Crowley snarled back as Sheriff Mills managed to turn him around to slap cuffs around his wrists.  
“Just wait, Winchester. This won’t stick and you should keep on eye on that little brother of yours. I would hate for anything to happen to him.” Castiel found himself in-between Dean and Crowley, body thrumming with tension.  
  
“Oh the little angel is standing up for his boyfriend. Have you told your family yet, Castiel? Do Gabriel or Anna know you cried like a little bitch? Dean must enjoy that I broke you in for him.”  
Castiel lost himself for a moment, the roaring in his head deafening everything else except for the crack as he felt his fist connect with Crowley’s face. The ache was immediate and sharp, and he hoped he had remembered to hold his fist right. The crunch of Crowley’s nose was bone deep satisfying through and through and he felt a heady rush as Sheriff Mills let Crowley drop to the ground.  
  
He stood over Crowley, hands still in shaking fists as the blood spilled down the handcuffed boy’s face. It felt surreal to have their positions reversed but a small voice screamed in victorious rage as the officers hauled Crowley to his feet. He scowled at Castiel and spat out some blood.  
"Congratulations, angel. I hope you enjoy telling your little band about how you worked so long and hard for that record deal and now you can just enjoy sliding back into your basement."  
With that the officers hauled him to a patrol car and Castiel watched as he was driven away.  
  
A gentle hand on his shoulder had him looking up into the face of Jody Mills. “You did good kid.” She grinned. “Though you might want to get that hand looked at.”  
  
Castiel stretched out his fingers gingerly, the knuckles torn, and he found himself really smiling ear to ear for the first time in what felt like forever. “Worth it.”  
  
The loud whoop from behind him was the only warning Castiel received before he was pulled into a fierce hug and then kissed thoroughly by Dean. He felt lightheaded and slightly hysterical. The kiss was passionate but brief as his family and their celebratory yelling surrounded him. The warmth, surprising as it was, so close to the stress of being around Crowley, felt like it was exploding from his chest.  
  
Gabriel ruffled his hair and he felt himself being tugged away from Dean into a hug from Balthazar. He couldn’t believe it had worked and he managed to say so to Sheriff Mills, resulting in laughter from her before she left to oversee Crowley’s booking. They were almost to the parking lot where Gabriel had taken to parking near the Impala.  
  
“Wait, where are we going?” He could hear the first hour bell from inside the school.  
  
“This calls for some skipping, little bro!” Gabriel pushed him into the passenger seat of the Impala and closed the door. Dean slid into the driver’s side, Sam and Jess into the backseat, holding hands. His siblings all piled into the Camaro.  
  
He leaned over to kiss Dean and chuckled at Sam and Jess’ simultaneous noises of protest and excitement.  
  
“So where are we going?”  
  
Dean grinned cheekily and drove. “To a galaxy far far away.”   
  


  
They ended up crashed on the couch in the Milton house, piled on one another and spilled across the room with a mountain of junk food and candy and all six Star Wars movies. About a half an hour into The Empire Strikes Back right as Taun tauns are being gutted, Castiel spoke up. "I'm sorry."  
  
"For what? " Gabriel bit off a chunk of Twizzler and chewed it.  
  
"For ruining everything?" Castiel sputtered at his brother’s bored tone.  
  
Balthazar picked his head up from where it was resting in his sister’s lap and pushed at Castiel.  
  
"Shut up, Cassy.” He snagged a handful of Twizzlers from his cousin and settled back down, handing a few to Israfael.  
  
“Yeah, as long as you promise no more emo French bullshit, fucks will not be given. Now will you please just shut up or stick your tongue in Kansas’ mouth and let it go.” Snorts and undignified giggling erupted from Gabriel and Balthazar at her comment.  
  
Castiel could feel his mouth hanging open and quickly closed it. He turned to look at Dean, who glanced back with an amused expression before his eyes returned to the TV screen.  
  
“Dude, I told you they wouldn’t care or hate you for it so quit acting all surprised.” Castiel just huffed a short, shocked breath. They really didn’t seem upset about it. How could they not be mad at him? If not for the loss of the record deal then for the fact that the only reason they had it in the first place was because of Crowley? He felt off-kilter and just a little hurt that the suffering he had gone through, choosing to stay with Crowley for them, was now just being brushed off.  
  
“Are you sure that you guys aren’t just...”  
  
Israfael flailed her arms and let out an irritated grunt as her brother sat up and jabbed the remote at the television to pause the movie. Gabriel also turned his body to look at him and Anna, where she had been curled up in an armchair, leaned forward to touch Castiel’s shoulder.  
  
“Cassy, we are mad. We are upset. We were all really looking forward to this and where it might lead.” He knew it and looked away from Anna to his hands in his lap. “We are infuriated that any of this happened to you and we are enraged by the fact that we ever let the band shit take precedence over looking out for our little brother.” He looked up at her and she smiled. “We are more than anything though, just happy that you are okay.”  
  
Gabriel snorted. “We also didn’t want a record deal if it meant that we would have anything to do with that fucking assclown. So really, it’s all good. You found some Winchester’s to adopt (Sam popped his head up from the floor with an indignant Hey!), Crowley is gonna rot in jail for at least a little while, we’ve got a fucking pile of candy and proof that George Lucas doesn’t always fuck up film wise. We will figure something out band-wise and that’s it.”  
  
“Awww Gabe, that was so touching. Can you clasp me to your bosom so that I may cry?” Balthazar bat his eyelashes at his cousin and then squawked as a box of Red Hots went flying his way.  
  
“Everyone seems to like you guys down at the Roadhouse, though. So you can at least do that for a while right?” Sam piped up from the floor.  
  
“Right-o, Sammy. See, Cassy, we’ll be fine.” Gabriel went back to chomping on candy and watching the movie, suitably signaling an end to the conversation. The rest of the Milton’s seemed to follow his lead, but Castiel wasn’t convinced. He felt better about his family maybe not loathing him but that wasn’t a miracle cure. They still had no deal; his college future was still a blank spot and not guaranteed. How were they supposed to get past being a local band in a bar with some YouTube fans? And if he did get into his school of choice, was it too self centered to assume that his family would follow him?  
  
A sharp pinch on his upper arm brought him back to the present and he whipped his head around to glare at Dean who just chuckled at him.  
  
“Dude, I can hear you thinking from here.” He could feel the frown forming on his face but Dean leaned forward and nipped at his mouth in a quick movement that startled Castiel into a blush. “It will be fine, we will be fine. Now, Milk Duds you should eat and the movie you should watch.”  
  
Castiel groaned loudly at his boyfriend’s terrible Yoda impression but laughter won out in the end, drawing the attention of his siblings again. He sat up and twisted around to kiss him more thoroughly, despite the groans of disgust from the peanut gallery. After enjoying the whining for long enough, he turned back around to settle his back against Dean’s and snagged the box of Milk Duds from him. He was right, everything would work out. College was still a year away and they did have Ellen and the Roadhouse for the band to call home.  
  


  
“What the fuck do you mean we aren’t allowed to play here anymore?!”  
  
“Watch your mouth when speaking to my wife, boy.” Bobby grumbled from behind the Roadhouse’s bar at Gabriel. Castiel stood there, blindsided. Ellen’s arms were crossed over her chest and her tone sympathetic but firm. He knew there would be no changing her mind. He turned his head to search out Dean but felt a deeper stab of betrayal when his boyfriend ducked his head and refused to look at him. He could hear Anna trying to get more information from Ellen and outbursts from his brother and cousins, but Castiel was blank.  
  
“You can’t play here” echoed in his head. What were they going to do? Why would Ellen do this? What had they done wrong? He glanced toward Dean and away again. Why had Dean told them that it would work out, if he knew that this was coming? Why didn’t he say anything? The shock slowly faded into anger and his head was starting to pound with Ellen’s words as well as the outrage of his family and the subsequent shouts back from Dean defending his adoptive family. The singer moved forward and the noise around him quieted.  
  
“Why would you tell us we were welcome here and then dump us?” He was proud of himself from keeping the quiver of hurt and upset out of his voice, and he kept his gaze to the ground, worried that if he looked at Ellen, he would start shouting. “Why? Is it because of what happened with Crowley? What did we do?” His voice was getting louder and he knew it, fists balled tight with compressed emotion. “If you didn’t want us here, you could have just said so. Not just have given us some weekends. What was this? Just pity? Letting us play because of Dean?”  
  
Ellen’s snort of amusement snapped his attention to her, and he was confounded by the laughter clearly just barely being held back. He opened his mouth to yell when he saw that Dean was also resisting smiling along with Sam and Bobby.  
  
“What is so bleeding hilarious?” Balthazar spit out and Gabriel ground his teeth in frustration.  
  
“I believe that would be me.”  
  
Castiel whipped around to face the voice behind him, as a long blond haired woman walked into the restaurant. Her fitted skirt and jacket screamed Corporate America to him and his anger dissipated into confusion. She even had a briefcase. Her heels clacked loudly on the wood floors and Castiel took her offered hand more out of rote manners than a genuine feeling. The others did as well and he felt nonplussed as the woman strode up to Ellen and was enveloped into a hug, Ellen now grinning from ear to ear.  
  
“So I said there would be no more playing here because...”  
  
“We were hoping you would rather come play for me.”  The Milton’s said nothing, as Gabriel made an unimpressed snort.  
  
“My name is Rachel Engelweiss. I was hoping we could talk about a business proposition that I have for you.” If it was possible the Winchester-Harvelle-Singer’s smiles grew wider and Castiel had the irrational desire to run away from a situation where he was suddenly aware of just how out of his depth he was.  
  
“I appreciate you coming here, Ms Engelweiss, and while I am not sure why you are interested in my family, this is probably not the best time.” Castiel fell back on a lifetime of social training to sound polite but also make it clear that they were leaving.    
  
“Cas, you should listen to her. It’ll be worth it, I swear.” Dean’s imploring tone twisted Castiel’s hurt feelings but he tried to ignore it. He started to try and excuse them again when the woman, Rachel he supposed, flipped her hair back briskly with one hand and snapped open her briefcase, after setting it on the bar. She pulled out a stack of papers and quickly split them into small piles and handed them to each Milton. Castiel looked down at it, but his brain was whirring too quickly to make sense of the words screaming up at him.  
  
“Let’s make this simple. I am the head of Seraphim Records in New York. No we are not a massive label like Inferno and we tend to focus more on smaller bands, but we are willing to do what we must to get you.”  
  
“Whoa. Wait. Seraphim Records? Isn’t that obnoxiously on the nose?” Gabriel scoffed, and Castiel for once was grateful for his brother’s blunt attitude. Anna on the other hand stepped forward to overlook the contract with her name on it, with the other’s following suit. After a few more minutes of Gabriel bickering with Ellen, she made a small noise of surprise.  
  
“Are you people really serious about this?” She gestured to the paper and Castiel snagged his own, skimming quickly.  
  
Rachel laughed. “Deadly. We think you guys would be an excellent addition to Seraphim and we are willing to do whatever is necessary.”  
  
“Yeah but this is extreme. A signing bonus up front to help with living costs, willingness to wait for all members to complete high school.” Anna still sounded skeptical but Castiel couldn’t blame her.  
  
“That was all Ellen.” Rachel’s voice was rueful.  
  
Castiel looked down again at the contract in his hands and wasn’t surprised to still see a jumble of words staring up at him. He did start as he saw the word “college” on the paper.  
  
“You’re going to help pay for school?” He stared incredulously at Rachel, who chuckled.  
  
“This one here,” Dean’s grin exploded across his face as she gestured to him, “nags almost as much as Ellen does.” She finished.  
  
“This is for all of us?” Balthazar noted, a hint of suspicion in his voice.  
  
“I don’t want you guys thinking that we are giving you full rides anywhere. We are simply offering to help cover costs while you record, tour, et cetera.” All Castiel could do was manage a choked “Huh.” He glanced toward his family and shared a look with each of them. The hope and excitement was palpable.  
  
“So, what’s the verdict guys? In or out?”  
  
Castiel shot a look at his siblings one more time before allowing the wide smile to spread across his face. He stepped forward and extended his hand.  
  
“We have a deal.”


	17. Epilogue

Dean’s fingers tapped out an impatient beat on his thigh, the other hand tightly gripping the steering wheel as he pulled into the parking lot in front of Alighieri. It looked like just a regular club on the outside, all dark windows and bright neon, but it was largely cavernous on the inside, with just a bar and merchandise table along one wall and a few table spread around. It was a nice enough venue, he mused. Large enough for a few hundred people, but still to make it feel a bit more intimate than the bigger venues that Hymns played more often than not. He wasn’t really surprised by the number of people milling about. Castiel had said that their small impromptu shows had been packed. Not that the band made it easy for the fans they did have. Gabriel, Balthazar, and Israfael spent a lot of their downtime devising riddle games and scavenger hunts for any shows they performed outside of the regular tour dates. Dean had played along a few times and cracked a few of them. Not that he really needed the clues. It may had been about four years since he and Castiel had started being, well, him and Castiel, but it hadn’t changed them at all.   
  
He snagged a beer from the bar, flashing his ID, and took a drink to try and dispel the jitters and the vague sense of nostalgia he got every time he watched the stage hands set up the band’s instruments. The crush of bodies around him and the cold beer in his hands made him feel seventeen again and just in some rich kid’s basement, not 21 and armed with a envelope and a set of keys. The lights dimmed and people whooped in anticipation. It was a pretty even mix of men and women in the audience and Dean chuckled as he made his way up to the front of the crowd. It was amusing and surreal to see not only his boyfriend’s face on t-shirts, but the other Milton’s as well. He, personally, was okay with just being another face in the crowd. Sure, a few of the more rabid fangirls had plastered his face all over their websites, debating whether or not he was, in fact, The Castiel Milton’s lover. It didn’t concern him too much. He and Castiel had worked hard over the last several years to keep their relationship as far out of the public eye as possible as as far as the fangirls could prove, they were just friends. For the looks of recognition he did get as he pushed through to the front, he just winked and moved on.   
  
His hand finally gripped the cool metal barrier. Over the last year or two, most of their relationship had been held over the phone, through texts, and late night skype calls. They had had a few weekends and one week all to themselves, but with their separate class schedules, Castiel’s tour, and the thousands of miles between them, there had not been a lot of time to just be together. They hadn’t actually seen one another face to face in almost three months. Things would be different now, though. He quickly touched his chest to feel the envelope tucked in the inside pocket of his coat.   
  
The lights brightened on the stage and Dean chuckled as the screaming started and only escalated as Gabriel made his way out onto the stage bass in hand. Dean snorted as he hammed it up, blowing kisses at his adoring public. Balthazar was next, and Dean rolled his eyes as the girls around him swooned at his stupid skin tight v-neck t-shirt. Jesus. Israfael and Anna stepped out next, chatting about something before briefly stopping to acknowledge the shouts of appreciation they received as well. They were all dressed more casually than their normal shows but he could still see Anna’s style stamped all over them. Something’s definitely never changed he thought before being distracted as Castiel moved out onto the stage, discussing something with a stage hand and pointing to the earbud in his right ear. He seemed to just give up on it after a minute of discussion, and just let it hang over his shoulder, snagging his white guitar from another venue worker. Dean was pretty sure he would never really get used to the shrieking that accompanied Castiel. He smiled at the shy but sincere smile on his boyfriend’s face. Dean wondered what the fans would think of the singer in real life versus his confident and suave stage persona, as they deafened him with their shouts and cat calls. As Castiel moved back a moment to adjust his guitar’s strap and to plug it into the amplifiers, Gabriel and the rest of the band teased their audience.   
  
“Aw damn guys!” Gabriel laughed to his family. “They found us!”  
  
“I told you the last clue was too damn easy, Gabe. What did you expect?” Balthazar griped playfully.   
  
“Yeah, Jesus, Gabriel. Everyone knows that the quadratic equation is its own circle of Hell. What were you thinking?” Israfael mocked, as she wrapped her hands in several layers of tape. Dean shook his head and refocused on Castiel. It was the hardest thing to not just climb up onto the stage and drag the singer as far away as possible. Castiel stepped up the microphone and cleared his throat.   
  
“Hello.”  
  
The shouting was thunderous, making it impossible for him to continue speaking so instead, with a nod of his head to Israfael, she started pounding out a rhythm to a song, the other members joining in so that the audience had to either quiet down to hear or sing along.   
Jesus Castiel looked good.   
The freak still played barefoot, despite numerous injuries to his feet over the years from bottles being tossed on stage, cutting himself on bad stage flooring, you name it. He looked in his element and Dean knew he enjoyed the smaller venues more than the stadiums.   
  
Dean licked his lips and sipped his beer. It was selfish but he was glad that besides Castiel’s family, he was the only one who ever got to see the singer at home, in ripped jeans hanging off of his hips and Dean’s old band tees on the rare Sunday mornings they stole now and then. Or see the perfectly styled hair wild and crazy from hands running through it in frustration at the latest assignment from Castiel’s insane composition professor.   
  
Distracted by his musings, Dean jumped when the music fumbled and abruptly stopped. He snapped back to attention to see Castiel staring at him from on stage. Whoops. He knew he shouldn’t have stood in the front.   
  
“Hey Kansas! The fuck are you doing here?” Gabriel shouted, amused. Dean ducked his head in embarrassment, the fans around him eyeing him more speculatively. He waved at the other band members who all looked very amused, except for Castiel. He cringed as the singer hastily put his guitar in it’s stand and stalked off the stage. The crowd’s questioning murmuring grew louder and Dean was convinced he had made a terrible mistake. That is, until the audience freaked out again. The stage door opened and Castiel emerged, the only thing keeping him from being smothered was a giant mountain of a man named Uriel provided by Seraphim. Dean started to make his way towards him, and when he got close enough, he could see the myriad of questions flickering across Castiel’s face.   
  
“I thought you were taking Sam to Stanford with Jess?” The singer said, leaning into Dean’s space so as to not let the fans hear.   
  
Dean smiled at him. “I thought I would let the kid do his own thing and drag Bobby and Ellen with him. Besides.”he paused. “I’m in the area, looking for a roommate for this really ridiculous apartment I just rented. Was wondering if maybe you knew anyone who might be interested?”   
  
He pulled back, grinning at Castiel. He had a feeling his boyfriend would be excited, but was still caught off guard as the singer launched himself at Dean, mouth firmly pressed to his. He pulled the other man to him as tightly as possible and returned the kiss with fervor. A low whistle from Anna on stage breaks them apart, and the crowd’s shocked silence morphs into cheers. As Castiel grabs his hand and drags him through the stage door, he can hear the band members playing up the crowd with more jokes about “having their hearts broken that Cassy’s a taken man.”   
  
“So you’re really living here?”  
  
Dean pulled the envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Castiel who opened it with a questioning look before once more wrapping his arms around Dean.   
  
“You graduated! You graduated and you didn’t tell me?!”He paused and read over the second piece of paper, behind his diploma.   
  
“You. You got into MIT? _You got into MIT?_ ”    
  
Dean flushed but smiled at Castiel.   
“I did. More importantly, all of my shit is in the Impala so are we roommates or what?”   
  
Castiel ran his hands through Dean’s hair as he kissed him again.   
“I can’t believe you’re actually here!” He stopped for a moment, smile slipping from his face.   
  
“Oh God. I kissed you in front of those people. It’s going to be all over the internet tomorrow!”he groaned, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to avoid being in the spotlight with us.”  
  
It was Dean’s turn to pull Castiel into a heated kiss.   
  
“Whatever. Let the fangirls have their fun.”  
  
“I suppose you’re right. Now get out of here, I have a show to salvage.”  
  
Dean grabbed one of the singer’s hands and placed a set of keys into it.   
  
“See you at home?”  
  
Castiel’s smile lit up the darkened air backstage.   
  
“See you at home.”


End file.
